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Verses 

By 

D. FRANK PEFFLEY 



Publisher of Creston New* 
Creston, Wash. 



Copyright 1908 

By 

D. FRANK PEFFLEY 



LISHAKYotOONGREoS 
(wo UoDies rteceivBt; 

JUN 18 1908 



T-^. 



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Associated with the News, and to whom this work is 
Affectionately Dedicated. 



AUTHOR'S FOREWORD. 

This little collection of verses has been gathered into book 
form for two purposes: first, that my work, or such of it as I 
have thought worthy of preservation, might be saved; and 
second, that I might give it a permanent and convenient body 
for private distribution among the few but valued personal 
and literary friends who have in the past shown a kindly in- 
terest in and appreciation of my literary efforts in both metric 
and prose composition. The publication is purely a labor of 
love and not a commercial venture. It is not for me to reach 
the popular eye and ear, and therefore a literary career could 
not be mine, had I the opportunity or the ambition to attempt 
it. I have written only as the muse insisted on being given 
voice, so the few offerings herein presented are gleaned from 
the meager products of many years of a life in which the con- 
stantly-demanded labor of the hand has handicapped intellect- 
ual effort. 

The work is placed before the friends referred to as a me- 
mento of one they have known as an obscure but sincere lover 
of the beautiful in Nature, Art and Character; and to some 
who have not known me in the hope that they may find in it 
something at least of true poesy and welcome it as a contribu- 
tion not entirely unworthy to be included in a library of west- 
ern literature. THE AUTHOR. 

Creston, Washington, June 1, 1908. 



THE WESTWARD LAKD. 
The sun beams lair on the Westward Land 

Where the waters roll to the Placid Sea, 
Where the glister of gold 's in the rivers' sand 

And the mountains rear in their majesty: 

Where the bold peak, wrapped in its hood of snow. 
Like a crystal gleams 'gainst the summer's blue. 

While its pure springs leap to the vales below 
O'er rocks up-rent when the earth was new. 

A gladsome way in the West we tread: 

'T is a wide, brave land with a wild, tree air 

That comes from the frost of the mountain's head, 

From its play where the Time-carved crags stand 
bare. 

But it warms on the plains where the grain-fields lie, 
And in green-clad vales where the fruit-globes 
glow. 

'Neath th' eternal arch of the brooding sky 

The wind-touched harp of the pines throbs low. 

Muse of the Sunset, wake and sing 

The lays that are writ in your ancient scroll: 
On joyous pinions rise and wing 

Where God doth call to the poet-soul. 



SONNET. 
'Thou river Time tliat, never pausing, slow 

post silent sweep and sweeping bear with thee 

Into the shoreless ooean Destiny 
A helpless tlirong, on-drifting with thy flow 
From childhood's narrow vales where roses blow, 

By arbored banks where fragrant buds of truth 

Perfume the air inhaled by ardent youth; 
Through plains where fruits of manhood ripened glow; 

Where age's barren, burning deserts lie 
Reflecting all its heat against the sun 

That downward creeps across the i3aling sky 

Whose gold to lead will turn and day be done— 
Thou river Time! With awe I look on thee 
And know that with the throng thou bearest me. 



WHERE BLOSSOMS BLISS. 
Does earth no sun-kissed height embrace, 

No valley sweet with fruit and flower, 
Where grief doth never seam the face 

Nor ever comes the evil hour? 

May not the searching mind of man 

Yet find the ze^jhyr's h'dd )n home 

Whence waft the angel-breaths that fan 

When day grows faint the heav'nly dome? 



No more since primal Eden's gate 

Was closed shall man walk near to God 

With, hand in His, but must he wait 
The opening of the gates of sod? 

Then shall our life be one w^ith His— 

Thus whispers Hope that bears us up— 

And found the land where blossoms bliss 
Our lips shall part from sorrow's cup. 



CAN SOUL INACTIVE BE CONTENT? 
Time's flood rolls on. Each glad new year 

Brings me yet nearer to the shore 
That rises dim on some far sphere 

Where faith is sight, Hope lures no more. 

But is it rest with folded hands 
And idle mind awaits me there? 

Or shall I feel th3 sama demands 

TO DO that make this world so fair? 

The joys we know of work are born: 

Can soul inactive be content? 
I pray when dawns my mystic morn 

Be it to sweet einploym.ent. 



where; nature dwells. 

The West! The West! 

I love it best— 
The broad, tree West with its wealth untold— 
For Nature's home is its mountains old. 
Its dawns 'neath curtains of rose unfold, 
Its sunsets linger in purple and gold, 

While the dome of day 

Is azure alway, 
And the diamonds that stud the crown of Night 
On spires of granite throw quivering light 
That gleams and glints thro' the cold, thin air, 
Illuming the stillness eternal there. 

Here man is little and God is great, 
And His work is wrought while ages wait. 
He hath reserved to the last the best— 
The broad, the free, the golden West. 



NIGHT. 
The sun is set and the fields dim lie 

In the tender gloom of the ended day. 

The after-glow in the west dies away 
*Gainst the darkening wall of the lowered sky. 

Q-ladly the wings of the morn unfold 
O'er the hills of the far-off east we see 
And the dew-gems tremble on grass and tree, 

While the light spreads broad like a scrolL unrolled. 

And gladly we toil thro' the golden hours 
While the flaming chariot above us speeds 
At the heels of the fire-god's furious steeds 

Whose hoof-prints are the scented flowers. 

But the night is sweet with dreams and rest- 
Dreams of the things the heart has planned, 
Rest for the wearied mind and hand- 
Till morrow awake us with new strength blest. 



THE NATURE-WORSHIPPKR. 
I love the cold, eternal peaks 

On whose bald summits Silence keeps 
Her court; the avalanche that breaks 

In thunder down their pathless steeps. 

Beyond man's ruthless hands they lie: 
He can not mar the God-formed face 

Of Nature resting 'gainst the sky, 
Nor can profane her holy place. 

I love old ocean's freedom grand, 

Who sweeps with regal scepter round 

The outmost verge of every land, 

And marks of man's domain the bound. 

He can not break with reckless lust 
Of gold or glory Neptune's sway: 

His eager feet are backward thrust 
Where tide and sand together play. 

I love the lake that, broadly spread, 
Kests like a trembling, limpid screen 

Between a wide world overhead 
And one below, but partly seen. 



Beneath that screen 1 seem to see 
A strifeless realm, a perfect peace: 

A home where sweetest rest shall be 

For mortals when comes soul^s release. 

I love the cloud whose evening fire 
In beauty burns unknown to art; 

Or flaming with the storm-king's ire 
Is of his (Ireadest power a part. 

For in the lightning's blinding glare 
I wild, unmastered forces see: 

The war of gods of earth and air, 
Or sport of demons, 't is to me. 

What human hand may tame and bind 
In slavery to its weak control 

No more sublime is to my mind. 

Nor claim.s the homage of my soul. 



hlFWB ilENhrWINQ. 
Kow April's pulse begins to be 

Felt in earth and air. 
In awakening plant and tree 
The perennial mystery 
Of the season 's seen again 
Spreading over field and plain 

Hound me everywhere. 

Orchard's captive and wild plum free 

In pink and white are gay . 
Among tlie dead brown stems I see 
The timid violet shrink from me: 
A sweetly modest beauty she, 
Most fit the spring-day's bride to be— 
The sunclad spring-time day. 

This clump of willows gray and green 

With slender hands is striving 
To hide some treasure. Ah, the sheen 
Of purling waters lies between 
The yielding twigs. A liquid treble 
From ripple-lip and tongue of pebble 
Sings the hymn reviving. 



A 8UM2vtEB'S DAY THOUGHT. 
The grass-waves roll like the waves of the sea 

'Neath the leet of the wind on the meadows. 
The lithe vine sways with the bending tree, 

And the sunlight plays with the shadows. 

To the hurrying breeze the grain-fields bow 

As it hastes with its kiss to dry 
The sweat from the sturdy farm-boy's brow 

While he toils under cloudless sky. 

O'er clovers red the bro\vn bees hum, 

Intent on their winter's store. 
Up the sparkling pool the minnows come 

In the shade of its mossy shore. 

A day to lie on the sward and dream 

Is this— ay, to dream of when 
The world shone fair 'neath a roseate beam: 

For the morning of life was then. 

What visions of hope, of conquests bold! 

What turreted castles there 
Miraged in the mists did our eyes behold! 

Ah, those beautiful walls of air! 



APRIL. 
"Spring is with us again," we say, 
And mellower grows the lengthened day. 
The playful waters as they run, 
Released from snows by April's sun, 
Make merrier music where they break 
Upon the marge of stream and lake. 
The hoarseness of stern Winter's voice 
That through the tree-tops bare and dead 
A dirge o'er shrouded Nature sang. 
His peal triuinphant loud that rang 
From frost-bells swung from mountain-head, 
Are gone, and hill and vale rejoice 
With airs that on the softest cheek 
Are lightly felt. The green buds speak 
A language low the rambler hears 
Through Psyche's sympathetic ears. 
Now all things own the Passion's sway. 
The sunshine woos the flowers, and they 
Woo bee and humming-bird and maid. 
The swain upturns the yielding earth 
And feels within his breast a birth 
As of the plants that burst the glade. 
He knows not what nor whence nor how, 
But that there moves beside his plow 
An unseen Presence. It has laid 
A warm hand on his heart, and goes 
At night with him to his repose 
10 



To round his couch spread dreams so tair 
That heaven seems nearer when the air 
Of dawn with fragrance greets again 
His rested strength . 

A glad refrain 
Sings through his mystic depths of soul, 
Tuned with the wondrous chords that roll 
The anthem of the spheres along, 
The grand Creation's morning song 
Whose octave sweeps from Law to Love: 
Whose volume fills the dome above, 
The depths below; from side to side 
The echoless caves of utmost Space 
Arc a-tremble as waves of harmony race, 
An ebbing, rising, but ceaseless tide 
Whose flow begins with the spring and swells 
Till its height is reached in the red-rose bells 
When June, the delight of circling time. 
Rings from her bowers the star- born chime. 

Blest is the season of love and of hope, 
When the impulse of life is awaked in all: 
When the buds 'neath the sod arouse and ope, 
And in the vine on the sun-kissed wall. 
As the ivy springs in the maiden's heart 
To cling to the oak in the heart of the swain, 
Clothe strength with beauty, and each a part 
Of one be ever through sun and rain. 

11 



BEYOxVD THE HOBIZON. 
I saw the moon, like a silvern bark 

Sail slowly over the starry sea- 
Glide down the west till the mountains dark 

It passed, and they hid it away from me. 

But I knew it was sailing on and on. 

I knew that earth's rock-sinewed hands 
Had not grasped it, and my bark was gone 

To glide and gleam over unseen lands. 

As the pale orb seeks the horizon's shade, 
So man goes down o'er the hills of time: 

On their farther side is his spirit stayed. 
Or wings away over lands sublime? 



WINTER. 

Cold winds, and fields all dead— 
ISTor tree with promise blows 
Nor fragrance breathes from rose: 

Far south the birds have fled. 

Bat 't is not death we see- 
Life only ]ies at rest: 
God's plan is ever best, 

Whate'er that plan may be. 



12 



SASTEB. 
Easter! Feast of the goddess Spring 
Forth from her white tent come to bring 
Life to the woods and fields again 
With smiling sun and gentle rain. 
Across the blue.of the lifted sky 
She floats the fleecy clouds on high. 
She stoops o'er the bed of each shy wild flower 
And it wakes to the touch of her ma^io power, 
Bursting the bars of its frost-locked cell 
In the meadow's bosom or lonely dell. 
She calls to the birds, ''Come back with me 
To your nesting again in hedge and tree: 
Make glad the world with the lightsome glee 
Of twitter and song. Come back with me." 
Oh, iSTature renascent in God's own love, 
With earth's hands clasped in toaven's abovel 

But a dearer thought is theirs today 
Who see the great stone rolled away 
From the tomb of old; the Savior risen 
From its dread embrace; the gloomy prison 
Of the grave o'ercome, and life proved more 
Than a lonely walk on time's bleak shore. 
Day of the resurrection, give 
A lasting joy to them who live 
In sweet repose through the Christian's faith 
That the Lord arising vanquished Death. 

18 



THE PASSING OF OCTOBER. 
IsTow is the time of frost and falling leaves. 

The breath of Autumn chills the circling blood. 
The Year feels age's tremor and he grieves 

To see the beauty fade from field and wood. 

He gave them life and richly clothed them all 

With leaf and blade and flower, with fruit and grain. 

He gave them song and carol sweet to call 
To pensive minds the sylvan joys again. 

The mandate of the ice-god they obey, 

But not fore'er: a new Year will arise 
And with it come the lengthened, softened day, 

The wakened voice and leaf 'iieath hlgh-liung skies. 



MOTHER-LOVE. 
There 's nothing in heaven above 

Nor in the earth below 
So precious as mother-love. 

But often we do not know 
Till the selfish strife 
Of the field of life 

Has painfully taught us so. 



14 



In the calm, silent night, by fair Luna's pale light, 
The dew decks with jewels the red rose's spray, 

And they shine there at morn when the day-god's first- 
born, 
Aurora the beautiful, comes forth to play. 

How balm fills the air, and its perfumes how rare I 
How sing the glad chorists deep hid in the grovel 

Oh, now it is sweet to sit down at the feet 

Of Nature and loam from her lessons of love. 



SUMMER NIGHT. 
The moon in argent splendor riding high, 

The stars with gentle f ulgence all aglow, 
The hills in outline dim against the sky. 

The waters sleeping in the vales below; 
Song-birds nestled under sheltering spray 
Of elm or maple, waiting for the day 
To wake each throat to melody again; 

The hush of rest o'er all that God hath made 
Save man, alone who knoweth care and pain— 

His image on whom of all his hand is laid— 
And beasts of prey that best the darkness love: 
All these I note while wand'ring in the grove, 
In meditation climbing to sublimest height. 
Oh, time for sweetest thought— a summer nigbtl 

15 



AUTUMN. 
A hush is o*er the woodland now 

Whence happy-throated trill 
Of bird-song shook from leafy bough 

Where summer crowned the hill. 

The yellow leaves fall gently down 

Upon the withered grass. 
The landscape dulls to somber brown. 

South-driven wildfowl pass. 

A leaden light creeps o'er tlie blue. 

No more the sunset glows 
'Gainst high-heaped clouds of royal hue. 

The dawn-light greyer grows. 

The feet of Winter stealing on 

With cold and ruthless tread, 
Press earth's fair breast. Her children gone. 

She mourns where lie her deal. 

And yet he bringeth joys his own. 

Not all unkind his reign. 
And he must lay the scepter down 

When Spring is queen again. 



16 



THE OLD TIME. 
Sometimes I 'd call the old time back. 

Yet not to live it o'er again. 
Too rough, has been life's flint-strewn track; 

For these torn feet too keen the pain. 

But there were those I loved when we 
Together walked in years agone. 

They laid them down to rest; but me 
Relentless Fate whips slowly on. 

One momem: to look in those eyes, 

One clasp of mine in those warm hands, 

One ringing word of glad surprise 
To greet me in the old-time lands, 

Were bliss. But no— 't will not return, 
Nor would I live the dead years o'er. 

Their ashes rest in Memory's urn 

Who walked with me the paths ol yore. 



IT 



MY HOME THAT 'S BUT IN SUNG. 
I am walking in my dreams the paths ot childhood. 

Where the sands beneath the moon are g-leaming' white 
By a stream that stealing swiftly thro' the wildwood 
To the Wabash rolls its waves of rippling light. 

Ever white beneath the moon the sands are gleaming 
Where her silver face is on the valley beaming, 
And I fondly hold the hand ot Mem'ry, dreaming 
While so far from thee I roam, 
Childhood's early long-lost home, 

Of thy care-free olden days and sweet rest. 

In those vanished years of yore, with life before me, 

Ere the heavy hand of sorrow pressed my heart, 
I was gladsome as the wild birds winging o'er me 

Where the waters cleft the walls of green apart. 

Still the stream is to the Wab ish swiftly gliding 
With the dancing light its laughing ripples riding: 
Ever farther from thee Fate my feet is guiding, 

While for thy return I long, 

Oh my home that 's but in song, 

With thy care-free olden days of sweet rest. 



18 



THE MUSIC OF THE HEART. 
I have heard, the world far banished, 

When wide-famed singers stood 
Where cultured list'ners crowded 

And stirred them as a wood 
Sways to summer's breeze or storm's exultant mood. 

I have sat, a thrall of rapture, 

When the grand piano's chords 
Threw back to master-fingers 

Music far outspeaking words- 
Brooks' clear babbie, thunder's roll, the singing of 

The birds. 

But the tones that sweetest ever 

On my ear-of -heart have pealed 
Float in childhood's untaught laughter 

Borne from sun-kissed wood or field- 
Music not of art nor written, throbbing life in joy re- 
vealed. 



19 



SERENADE. 
Come to me, sweetheart, the m jori is inviting 

Oar feet to the pathway the dark pines between, 
Wtiere shadowy lingers in her own light are writing 

A message of love to the night's silent queen. 

Come to me, sweetheart. The west-wind is saying 
To pines and to moon what I 'd whisper to thee— 

Whisper so low where the wood-elves are playing: 
Come from thy window and wander with me. 

Oh, trust me: my love is not as the loving 
Of winds that but woo for a kiss and away, 

Onward forever in wantonness roving, 

For thou liast my heart in thy keeping for aye. 



STEER FAR OUT, 
Full oft along the shore 

Rock fights with furious wave 
And shuddering headland wails. 
While far out safely sails 

A good ship breasting brave 
The storm's wild wrath and roar. 

Then steer thy course far out, 

Oh sailor on life's sea, 
Beyond the rocks, nor doubt 

There thou wilt safer be. 



20 



THE DAY OF DOOBT. 
There comes to every human life a day 

When, renting- from the strife for worldly gains, 
The mind thrusts things of baser kind away 

And mounts on spirit-wings to higher planes. 

In light not for the eye of flesh it sweeps 

Far over works that feeble hands have wrought, 

E'en to the vaults wherein Creation keeps 

Of old His secrets locked from mortal thought. 

It leels hov7 little of the power is man's 

That dwells in all the boundless universe of space; 
How slight his grasp of Heaven's simplest plans; 

How slight his skill their mystic lines to trace. 

Returned into the finite sphere, it then 

Confronts the mocking myrmidons of Doubt, 

And, overcoming. Faith lends light again: 
Or overcome, is damned to gloona without. 



21 



KNIGHT AND LADY . 

'Neath a battled wall with mosses grow a, 

'Neath a casement barred In Its towered height, 
A Ghampin^ steed bears aa arm jred kni^'ht. 
The gleam of his steel in the breaking light 

Is the sheen of the wings of the risen sun, 

A white hand waves from the cold, grey stone 
As a lily bends when the south-wind seeks 
To kiss the dew from its waxen cheeks, 
And warm lij-^s answer the love he speaks— 

The horseman who rides in the dawn alone. 

''I go. Farewell till the war is done, 
C. od's service in the name oi Spain 
Calls me afar j'er the rolling main. 
With a kingdom won will I come again 

To claim my queen, my loved and own. 

''With silken sails, in the glow of gold 

When Phoebus burns on the western sea, 
Soft winds shall waft my ship for thee: 
At the casement watch and wait for me." 

His fair form fades from the castle old. 



22 



The slow years drag o*er the cold, grey stone, 
Yet comes not he, the steel-clad knight— 
Chivalric soul and arm of might. 
At wake ot morn, in paling light. 

She whispers, "When his kingdom 'a won/' 

The beauty of the lily's gone- 
Time's dast doth sully purest snow. 
Bat lips grown cold still murmur low 
Her warrior's words of long ago: 

"Wait— Silken sails— Soft winds vv^af l: on." 

'T is evening, and tlie passing day 

In splendor st reams o'er sea and land. 
Above the ledge a withered hand 
Waves fitfully, a reed that 's fanned 

By breezes dying as they play. 

A glad, mad shriek— his name she calls. 

"He comes! My Knight— my KingI" she cries, 
"Where on the wave the sun low lies 
His purple sails swell 'gainst the skies—" 

Oh Death, thy Queen before thee f allsl 



SiZ 



IN SHAME AND GRIEF. 
(On the death of President McKinley.) 
Again Columbia's head is lowly bowed. 

la shame and grief before the world she stands— 
In shame that foulest murder laughs aloud 

And taunts her helplessness with crimsoned hands. 

In grief that he should tall, her noble son 

Whose faith and love went out to all his kind— 

Whose wealth of honors all humanely won 

Could wake no envious Cain in human mind. 

That brute may yet in G-od-like image move 

'Mong men and do the work that hell commands, 

This treacherous stroke doth once m jre dearly prove 
In deed that thrills with horror all the lands. 

For pagan souls with Christian feel the shock 

That, following rouad the earth th' electric wave, 

Makes faith in man a lightning-shattered rook 

As stunned we stand beside our chieftain's grave. 



24 



TOTTY BPwOWN AND DOTTY GKEEIN 
Totty Brown and Dotty Green, 
Their lav/ns without a fence between. 
Where tail elms and maples throw 
Upon the smooth-shorn oarpet low 
A checkered, shifting* come-and-go 
Of light and shadow, to and fro 
Moving as the branches sway 
To the whimsic breezes, play 
Together all the summer day. 

Totty is two years tlie older. 

Dotty 's crown is at his shoulder 

When they 're standing side by side; 

And I see him glance with pride 

O'er her straw of ample brim 

When she is in front of him. 

He is stalwart, tanned of face; 

She a form of supple grace, 

Lissome as a brook-side willow 

Bending over mimic billow. 

With a spirit never quiet 

Mirth in him runs ceaseless riot; 

Yet from Joy's full chalice drinking 

He sometimes turns to graver thinking. 

She's a maid of serious mind. 



25 



A Da by- woman sweor and kind, 

And demurely sits the while 

Watching him with frown or smile 

Till he, wearied with his playing, 

Throws him at her side, and laying 

His tangled curls upon her knees. 

Looks upward through the spreading trees. 

And asks, "Do you think God can see 

As little things as you an' me 

When He's so far off in the sky? 

I can't see Him, He 's up so high." 

And Dotty answers solemnly, 

" W'y Totty B'own! Course He can see 

Us bofe, an' littler sings 'an we. 

I know it 'cause my mamma say 

He never, never looks away, 

Bat watches all 'at children do." 

No doubt is in the eyes so blue 

Tliat earnestly are looking down 

Into his restless orbs of brown. 

Ah, faith and trust are woman given 

With life that man must ask of heaven. 

But silently fly childhood's days, 
And with them vanish childish ways. 
Again I see them on the lawn, 



m 



Bvit not tts ill tlie days a^yrone. 

^T is summer's dusk. From tree and wall 

Day's fading banners softly fall. 

She rests upon a rustic seat, 

He on the green sward at her teet. 

His eyes upraised hers falling meet, 

And lover's words his lips repeat: 

*'Dora, knowing what 't would say, 

Ciive answer to my heart. Alway 

ID has been yours alone, and now 

Would know the Joy of plighted vow." 

With glow of rose upon her cheek, 

'*Why need I, Tom, in words to speak?" 

She asks, "For you must long have known 

That ]ove with Dotty 's Jife has grown. 

Or in your breast still lingers doubt. 

As long ago?" "It is cast out 

By these dear lips, and perfect trust 

its place shall hold forever. Just 

To God and you, whom He has given 

The light for which my soul has striven, 

1 promise from this hour to be, 

For He through you 's revealed to me. 

No earth-born passion can with bliss 

So pure fill mortal heart as this 

Of love that finds its own." They rise 



*i7 



And stroll beneatli the dini-lit skies 
AViiile Vesper and leal in whispers hold 
Rehearsal of the story old . 

I look upon them as they move, 

And feel my own youth throb again. 

"God grant," I pray, "The years may prove 
Love's golden bond a welded chain." 



28 



LOVE Kf)T IK VAIN. 

Ah, my airy 

Wins;ome fairy, 
Why do you thus around me 

Weave your subtle chain? 
Soon, my charmer, you'll have bound me 

Ne'er to loose a^ain. 

Why beguiling- 

With your smiling* 
All my heart away from me. 

Do you taunting stay 
From these arms that wait for thee? 

Tell me, tempting Fay. 

Do not mock me, 

Do not mock me— 
Sprite of moonlight, fly away. 

Tempt me not again: 
Let me love a child of Day 

And love not in vain. 



29 



SUNN ^E YES. 
Busy little Sannyeyes— 
Eyes as blue as summer skies 
And as bright as summer suns— 
O'er tbe gay-robed meadow runs 
After flitting butterflies. 
Not a thought of passing hours, 
Lost among the laughing flowers, 
Chasing still witii gleeful cries. 
Has my darling; nor she knows 
As the day-tide broader flows 
She is weary till 1 call 
Her wliere restful shadows fall. 

Soon within my arms she sleeps. 
But in sleeping laughs and leaps, 
And I know she's still in dreaming 
In pursuit of tinted wings: 
Pretty, fragile, fleeting things 
That are only fair in seeming, 
And that caught are crushed in taking, 
Into dusty fragments breaking. 

Lilve are I and Sunny eyes: 
Both are chasing butterflies 
Over life's wide meadow lands. , 
Torn and bleeding are our hands 



30 



With thistle's blade and rose's thorn. 

Neither knows how weary we 

In our vain pursuits may be 

Till we hear the •'Come to me'' 

Once to every mortal borne 

From our Father, and we fall 

In his loving arms asleep, 

There to rest for aye and all. 

When at last in slumber deep 

So lie J . like Sunnyeyes 

Shall T dream of butterflieaV 



WHEKE LIETH ITALY. 

Wlien on life's pathway sorrows rise 
Like mountains lifting to the skies; 
When Hope eludes the mist-dimmed eyes, 
And vanishes the promised prize. 
Remember then Italia lie^ 
Beyond the Alps. 

If ye would see her templed hills, 
Her vine-clad slopes and silv'ry rills, 
Where ancient glory dwelt that fills 
Th' imagination yet and thrills 
The quickened pulses, hear the ills 
And cross the Alps. 



ai 



MEXICAN GIBL'S LAMKNi'. 
Heart of miue, oh heart of mine, 
Long in thy darkened cell repine! 

Thy love lies low in the cruel grave. 
In vain, in vain, in vain you plead 
At Death's closed door— he will not heed. 
Where was the power of God to save 
Thy love, my heart, from the cruel grave? 

Oh heart of mine! 

Love of mine, oh love of mine, 

All hea Veen's years my heart is thine! 

Thy face is hid 'neath the senseless atone. 
Oh heart so brave and form so fair, 
*T was murder's hand that laid thee there- 
God did not call thee, yet thou'rt gone: 
Thy face is hid 'neath the senseless stone, 

Oh love of mine! 



aa 



TWO SONGS-WAR AND LOVE. 

I wrote a song of brave men's deeds— 

A song of death on the reeking plain 

Where red War stalks o'er the shot-rent slain 

And the gaunt wood-wolf with the vulture feeds. 
I wrote of the cannon's stunning crash, 
Of the crackling musket's line-long flash, 
Of shells that scream through the nitrous pall, 
Of the circling sabre's fiery fall. 

And the song I wrote brought the flush again 
To the cheek of the tottering veteran, 
A flame to the eye of the age-bent man, 
And nerved anew the palsing hand 
That had drawn the blade for native land 

As his mind flew swift from Now till Then. 

I wrote again a tenderer song— 

A song of a mother's life-devotion, 

A wife's sweet trust, the soundless ocean 

Of a maid's pure faith who walks along 

The shining paths of the Time Untried 
In the light of Hope by her Chosen's side. 
Where fruited trees screen the sun's mild heat 
And the bloom of the rose is beneath her feet. 

And the love-song softened the snows that lay 
On shrunken temples until their flow 
To the moistened eye brought the long-gone glow, 
And the heaving breast caught the pearl that fell 
From the trembling brim of the old heart's well 

As the soul looked back on the far-away. 

Of the words that I wrote, what be the test 
If of Glory or Ix>ve the song was best? 

33 



RETROSPECTION. 
Wlien the shades of night are round me and the toilsome 

day is done, 
I have posted life's worn ledger to the setting of the sun, 
Then I sometimes wander backward on the pathway of th e 

years 
Till the valley of my childhood in its beauty reappears. 

There amid the scenes I ramble where to me all earth was 
glad, 

Looking fondly on a landscape in its vernal vestments clad. 

There I see the streams like silver dash above their clear- 
seen beds. 

And the flowers that love their music bend their gay but 
fragile heads. 

I see the nimble minnow flash along the crystal wave; 

I see the crawfish hiding in his mimic pebble cave; 

From the elm I hear the trilling of the song-bird's wild) 

delight, 
And the chatter of the squirrel swinging in the leafy height. 

It is morning, and the breathing of the goddess of the east; 
Shakes the pearls of dew and sunlight o'er the wild bee's 

scented feast. 

Laughing children, my companions in the years of long ago, 
Come again— familiar faces, radiant in ther dawny glow. 



34 



Loud I call them in my dreaming, but in vain await reply: 
E'en the echo of my message melts unheard into the sky. 
I would join them in their gambols— but they vanish into 

air, 
And where now I saw lost Eden, close-reaped harvest fields 

lie bare. 

Here where lay the paths of pleasure, stone-marked mounds 

upheave the sod, 
Each mute witness that a playmate heard the whispered 

callofG-od. 
For, awakened, I am walking the uneven way of age, 
And, returning to the present, bend above my ledger's page. 

Tliereis joy in retrospection, in thus wand'ring back to 

youth, 
When the path of life's been traveled holding fast the hand 

of truth: 
Doing with the heart and conscience e'er approving what is 

done, 
Let the years glide uncomplaining until age and youth be 

one. 



85 



BEASON»S REBUKE. 
The azure paled and turned to gold; 
Tlie gold to purple. Fold on fold 
The mist-wove draperies swung in air 
As Evening gently hung them where 
In her brief splendor summer's day 
Upon the mountains dying lay. 
I sat and watched the changing scene 
Reflected in the quivering sheen 
The lake spread wide, by elf-breaths stirred, 
Or vibrant wood-note faintly heard 
From restful dimness of the grove 
Beyond, till light no longer strove. 

Gone were gold and purple. Crept 
The shadows out. The dusk sky wept. 
The clouds rolled back beyond the brow 
The mountain lifted, frowning now. 
The wood-note faltered, then was still. 

The lake's broad shimmer sank from sight, 
And water, grove and plain and hill 

Were blended in the hue of night. 
The stars came forth, and softly fell 

Their silvery rain on sea and land. 
In spirit freed by Nature's spell, 

I felt the Unseen clasp my hand. 



B6 



Said Contemplation, Come with, me: 

Sail we o'er th' ethereal sea. 

Sail we where bright rivers How 

On other planets, lit by glow 

Of other suns. Where other years 

Mark the flight of time. In spheres 

Where the changeful life of man 

Is guided by another plan; 

Or wherein life is yet unknown, 

But Chaos rules supreme and lone. 

In others yet where sullen Death 

The scepter v/ields— Time's work is done, 
All animate has yielded breath, 

And Desolation from the throne 
Oi the dead realm of Silence sees 
The out-work of his stern decrees. 

So speaking, touched my dew-damp brow 
With thought-light fingers. Then the prow 
Of her mystic craft she turned away 
From earth and with the speed of day 
As it darts from its source, afar we whirled 
Round star and moon and world on world 
Till Intellect reeled in effort vain 

To comprehend in the vision shown 
The bounds of Force's vast domain 

Whose sway all Space alike must own. 



37 



And I woke. I lieard the lake's low plash.. 
I saw the fire-fly's lantern flash. 
The beetle hummed in the soothing air. 
The cricket chirped in the wall. And where 
Earth met the East pale Luna's beam 
Softened the gloom with her tender gleam. 

I said, Here have been problems given 

At my home's door too deep for me. 
With such has Mind for ages striven, 

And still unwrit the answers be. 
The light and darkness both I see 
The sun's flame screened by hill and tree. 
I hear the sof t-tongued waters sing 
Where rhythmic ripples shoreward spring, 
Or list to drone of wings that beat 
The drov/sing hours; while at my feet 
Frail insects fill the night with sound, 
Though voiceless. In the shadows round 
Leap sparks of intermittent fire 

Phosphoric, burning without heat. 
A thousand strings Creation's lyre 

Hath, all attuned to concord sweet. 
And yet it is not mine to be 
A chord in this grand harmony 
Of Being. From me lies concealed 
The Hand whose touch thro' them's revealed, 



38 



But not explained. I only know 
How stLort tlie way may Science go 
Along the patlis ox earth and sky 
In quest of lamp to read them by. 
Myself s an unsolved query. Yet 
Whence and Whitlior remain unmet, 
And What but vaguely understood. 

Then Reason spake in pensive mood: 
What profits it to seek the source 
Of Nature's all-impelling Force 

That thro' unerring Law compels 
Obedience from each form that's born 

To life, or in dead silence dwells 
Inert, of sense and motion shorn? 
Come, take my hand and walk with me 
Unvexed with taunts of Mystery, 
But be content to live and die 
Unasked the question How or Why. 



39 



FAITH'S CHILLINa. 
High in the shapely tower it swung, 
The great sonorous bell, and Hung 
From off its iron lips and tongue 
Full, vibrant and exultant tones. 
I paused upon the pavement stones 
Below and listened. O'er my soul 
In thrilling ripples seemed to roll 
A summons Irom the bending sky, 
Whose far, blue depths outreached the eye 
That springtim.e morn, to worship's seat. 
With bended head and rev'rent feet 
I passed the arched door and stood 

Without the sanctuary, where 
I listened to the swelling flood 

The organ poured upon the air 
Of harmony; majestic, grand 
As that which waked the shepherd band 
It seemed 't must be. 

I entered and 
An usher beckoned with his hand. 
I followed up the noiseless aisle 
The soothing flood swept down the while; 
And when the pew door closed I sank 
Into the cushioned seat and drank 
From founts that sprang in Heaven's hills, 



40 



I thought, and felt the Power that fills 

The walls of space and enters in 

Each human heart that seeks its sin 

To lose and God's sweet grace to win. 

The choir burst forth. Each voice that sangf 

Was faultless, and the anthem rang 

Upon my tense and intent ear 

Distinct and beautiful and clear. 

But cold— how cold! Those voices told 

JSTo story in their perfect tone 
Of G-od's abiding, as of old, 

In hearts that sang to him alone. 
"They mock for money," then I said 
In sorrow, and I bowed my head;| 
"They sing their praises all to men 
For man's reward.'* 

My eyes again 
I raised to meet the pastor's face 
Standing in his sacred place. 
Slight and full of youth and fair, 
To offer up the opening prayer. 
The seminary's training shone 

Through phrase and accent, gesture, pose; 
My heart sank slowly as a stone 

In ocean's depths as the prayer uprose. 
"He prays to men, for man's applause," 
I cried within me. 



41 



And when came 
Tlie sermon, in it Good's great name 
Nor Christ's was emphasized, but passed 
As if they were the least and last 
To be considered in man's life. 
It dwelt on things of earth— the strife 
Of parties— measures— men; the gains 
Of art and science; all with pains 
Sought out, and told with flowing tongue. 
His hearers on his accents hung, 
For eloquence was there that fell 
Upon the hushed house like a spell. 
While his elaborated theme 
Made man the greater &od to seem. 
But Calvary's scene of death he spared; 

•'Him crucified" he would not paint. 
As preachers of the old time dared 

In burning words, heart-spoken, quaint. 

The organ loosed again its flood 
As cheerless on the tiles I stood 
Without the sanctuary's door 
And saw the ebbing tide outpour 
Of worshippers; but not a face 

That looked in mine gave out a beam 
Caught in that house of added grace. 

To me it did not sacred seem 



42 



When on the pavement stones again 
I stood and gazed upon the pile, 

A triumph of the hands of men, 

And mused on what I'd seen the while 

I sat within, and wondered not 

That God by man's so oft forgot. 



THE WIND'S WORK. 
The wind blows wild, the wind hlows free. 
It wafts grand ships o'er the broad, blue sea 
With the wealth of lands that lie afar. 
It drives the storm-fiends roaring oar. 
It drinks the dew where daisies grow, 
It lifts the mists from the meadows low, 
Thro' the vines of the cottage window creeps 
And fans the face of the bahe that sleeps, 
Or the couch of the suf f 'rer softly seeks 
And soothes the heat from the fevered cheeks. 
The wind blows wild, the wind blows free, 
And it works as it will on land and sea. 



43 



LIFE'S CYCLES. 
Under the trees two children play; 
Laughing boy and girl are they, 
He with eyes of night's deep hue, 
Hers ol the cloudless sky's own blue. 
Careless they romp on the velvet grass 
While the scented days of springtime pass. 



'T is the roses! month. Two figures stray 
^yhere the moon-cast shadows silent play. 
A fair young head on a shoulder leans- 
Luna of old know'th what it means. 
Slowly is paced the path that lies 
Where the elms in ancient grandeur rise. 



Under the trees two children play 
Merrily speeding the long, bright day. 
Boy and girl with eyes whose hue 
Finds its fount in a mother's of rarest blue, 
And by her side a bronzed man stands, 
Stroking her brow with toil-hard hands. 



m 



Again beneath the elms at play 

Two children laugh in the autumn day. 

Light of eye is the girl I see, 

But his is dark as the crow's wings be. 

Watching now two mothers stand 

Clasping each a man's strong hand. 



Rocking at ease on the porch the while 
Two aged ones look on and smile. 
Through glasses gleam night's faded hue 
And the paling light of the heaven's blue 
As they see themsalves in the babes and stray 
Far back o'er memory's long pathway. 



Thus Life repeats as Time flits by 

The same sweet things. Tho' we age and die, 

We live again in our babes and theirs, 

Our Joys renewed, forgot our cares. 

We grow old; yet the world is young 

Alway as when the star-hymn rung. 



45 



YOUTH, AGE, HAPPINESS. 
A maiden sat by a young man's side. 

He held her hand, and her brown eyea fell 
On the grass at their feet, but his with pride 

Looked into her faoe, for he ioved her well. 

'T was the evening time of a summer's day, 
And the soft air came from the golden west 

With a sweet, oool breath, and it paused to play 
With tlie thick, dark tresses the youth caressed. 

Happy was he that summer's eve, 

For she to his wooing had answered "yes"— - 
Had promised the whole wide world to leave 

And trust in him for her happiness. 

They looked down the vista of coming time 
And builded them castles of gilded air. 

Their ears were touched with a faint, far chime 
As they walked together in Love's Land fair. 



Three score years hav^e come and gone, 
And again they sit in the fading day. 

Again the west wind wandering on 
Toys with the tresses thin and grey. 



46 



They've lived through the vista, the time is flown. 

Their shining castles all melted from sight. 
Yet they look still ahead where the golden sun 

ailds the Heavenly spires with a lasting light. 

But he loves her still and she loves him 
The same as when life in both was new. 

Though their clasped hands tremble, their eyes be dim, 
Their hearts with the old love beat strong and true. 

Ah, happy indeed are those happy in age, 

Whose closing life's volume brings no regret 

To gnaw at the heart, but shows a fair page 

O'erwrit with good deeds, earth's duties well met. 



47 



A-WING. 
Sweet and free of wing to me 
The muses sometinies come, and we 
Speed swilt away to realms alar 

To roam in biuriu et:iereal fields 
That lie beyond the evening star, 

Whose flora richest perfume yields. 

There viewless flowers in unseen bowers 
Breathe fragrance all th' unmeasured hours; 
For time no cycles there doth run, 

But an eternal golden light 
Falls trembling from one central sun 
That moveless rests at zenith hieight. 

Doth there not lie beneath the sky 
Some land like this to which I fly 
In moments when the spirit sinks 

O'erwhelmed by stroke of cruel fate? 
Wherein the generous soul ne'er drinks 
The cup prepared of mortal hate? 

Unknown to me such land may be- 
Some islet girt by peaceful sea 

Where Fortune's hands with treasures gleam 

That he who labors may obtain; 
Where life may be a poet's dream, 
A dream that wakes not into pain. 



48 



Ah, Hope, fair one who still dost run 
And beckon me to follow on. 

How far I've followed you, foot-sore I 
How far must follow yet ere you 
Unbar and ope the rosy door 

That shuts your promised state from view. 

Again a state whereon doth wait 
Fair Truth with Justice for her mate: 

Where good is of more worth than gold, 

Ambition is not to destroy- 
Where Friendship every hand doth hold, 
And mind and heart find sweet employ. 



49 



LOVE'S READING. 
Mignonette, 
Dear Mignonette, 
Lift to mine your eyes of Jet. 
Let me read the secret deep 
Locked behind your lips you keep- 
Let me read it, Mignonette, 
Written in your eyes of jet. 

Mignonette, 
Oh Mignonette, 
Will you keep it from me yet? 

Raise those lashes from your cheek. 
Let to mine your dark eyes speak— 
Speak and tell me, Mignonette, 
With your eyes of burning jet. 

Mignonette, 
My Mignonette, 
Now your eyes and mine have met. 
Light from out their depths has 

spoken, 
They the seal of lips have broken 
And you love me, Mignonette, 
Says your heart from depths of jet. 



FANCY BORNE. 
Psyche, come and soar with me 
Where wild winds wing so wide and free- 
Sweetly wild 
They fly, 
Or mad or mild, 
Across the sky: 
Come, my Soul, and soar with me. 

We'll rise to the realms of upper air 
Whence Earth looks dim and far and fair, 
And the pale 
Rare blue 
Mists' clear thin veil 
Enchants the view- 
Come, rise with me in the upper air. 

'Neath moon and glinting star and sun 
We'll race those tireless pinions on— 
Care's dull flight 

Outdone, 
We'll live in light 

The glad heart's own, 
Away 'neath moon and star and sun. 



51 



THE VOICE OF MARS. 
Country calls, country calls 

Me away. 
War's wing flaps upon our walls, 
O'er the land its shadow falls 
And the timid heart appalls 

With its play. 

Trumpets bravely, blithely blare 

By the sea, 
Bidding us to gather there, 
Nerving us to do and dare, 
Following our banner wher- 

E'er it be. 

I had hoped that ne'er again 

Mars should say: 
Tramping thousands, shake the plain; 
Sulph'rous voices, fright the main- 
Blood Columbia's arms must stain. 

Death have sway. 

But he 's spoken, we 've replied, 

Cast the die. 
God and justice be our guide! 
Patriot soul by steel is tried. 
As our fathers won or died 

So must I. 



52 



TOAST-THE DAY WE CELEBRATE. 
Unroll tliy scroll, oh History, 

Unroll it and the day 
We celebrate restore to me. 
Let jny imagination see 
Those heroes as they throng the Hall 
And hear each patriotic wall 
In ringing echoes words repeat 
That throw the gauntlet at the feet 
Of haughty Britain's stubborn king: 
The day when Freedom's weary wing 
From soaring without place ol rest 
For thousand years turned to the West, 
And sweeping Atalanta's main 
With gladness tound repose again— 
Thy scroll unroll, oh History, 

Restore to me that day. 

I breathe its air, oh Mystery 

That brings them back to me: 
Brings form and feeling, voice and deed, 
The steel-nerved courage that doth heed 
No peril that the future shakes 
With threat'ning hand, but bravely breaks 
The bond Oppression overstrains. 
Above the clank of severed chains 



53 



Thrown down I hear the Bell ring- out. 
The welkin trembles with, the shout 
That up troni plain and mouiitHin floats 
Responsive troni three million throats. 
'T iij warl 'T is war! 'T is war! 'T is war! 
Proclaimed and answered near and far. 
That day I live, thro' mystery 
Of mind restored to me. 

Thy story 's writ, oh gi>wiii^- Pasr, 

Oti Time's uuladiug' pa^e— 
How long- in blood tiie suns arose. 
How li-lory's halo erowiied tlie close 
When Vi(3tory proudly tjave lier hand 
And with it Man a Ch*>sen Land. 
Those heroes are but fLU-mless dUHt: 
Their souls live on as live the jast. 
Their memories aud their works are g-iv^en 
To us a sacred trust. May Heaven 
Ueleud us while we them defend 
And Freedom's empire still extend. 
Then till the cup. Drink to the Day, 
And Patriot Hearts long- turned to (Jiay; 
To Bell that told in clangorous glee 
The birth of strite-nursed Liberty. 
Fill deep the bowl— with joy we'll drain 
To yonder Silken Folds again— 
To stars eternal, torn from night 

54 



When striig-g-ling- U^^-ioiis sought tor light; 
To sky's high e/nibieni ot tiie true; 
To white, th.at speaks ot pure intent; 
To orinis')n, life's blood tor us spent. 
Pledge to The B^lag our love anew. 
May we its story, like the Past, 
Write on a fadeless page. 

THK RL: MORSE OF ARNOLD. 

The bargain made. 

The price was paid. 

For rank and gold 

My soul was sold— 

In exchange ruinous was given 

For hell my dearest hope ot heaven. 

Keener tlian steel's 

My conscience feels 

The thrusts that through 

Me pierce anew— 

Swifter than the lead that tore 
My body in the days before. 

My glazing eye 

Now moistened by 

No cooling tear- 
No soothing tear- 
Slow closes on a sunless sky: 
Unwept, unweeping must I die. 

55 



IN NATIONAL GEMETERY-FT. SCOTT, KANSAS. 
The holy hush of dewy eve descends. 
Softly fades the glow from out the west. 
Moistened breezes gently fan my cheek, 
And lay caressing touch upon my brow, 
In rev'rence bared within these sacred bounds. 
The silence of the place a voice assumes 
More eloquent than ever dwelt in words. 
Or than my pen may frame to signs of sound. 
The guardian maples whisper 'bove my head 
As if a watchful spirit moved amid 
Their greenness, jealous of a living presence here 
Where Honor's dead the soil forever claim. 

I stand upon the sward that wraps their rest, 

These sleepers dreamless of the strife that 's done, 

Whose flesh and bone have unto dust returned. 

But who in deeds that can not perish live. 

My mortal senses fail before the flood 

That from dead years rolls on my passive mind. 

Time whirls me back. A wondering boy again, 

I see and hear the scenes and sounds of war. 

The silence is no more, nor death's repose, 

But storm of action that the timid heart 

With dread o'erwhelms, but sternly nerves the brave 

To steadied beat and strong, around me breaks. 

The cannon's heavy boom, the musket's crash, 



56 



TtLe shriek of shell and whirr of hurtling lead, 
The saber's parrying ring, the trampling hoof 
And clattering wheel of battery's advance, 
The neigh of steed with dee ply-ro welled flank, 
The Stentor-toned command above the fray. 
The curse that hurls from yielding foeman's lip, 
The cheer of conqu'ror pressing victory home, 
And groan of fallen, for heaven's mercy breathed— 
The tempest of the past, by mystic power 
Imagination wields o'er souls that free 
Their wings of grosser weights and fly with her 
Where nothing that hath ever being had 
Can cease to be, sweeps by renewed in all 
The fury and the glory of its time. 

Eternal stars, that saw the birth of man 

And all that h3 hath wrought of wrong or right, 

Unmoved and cold look down. 

Again I am within the living hour. 

And at my feet the modest stones extend 

In pallid ranks, to careless ears so mute. 

Yet speaking unto mine as never tongue 

Hath spoke, my emotions full awake. 

Shall these memorial blocks, these lipless orators, 

In vain admonish us who yearly strew 

With flowers this sod to hold forever fast 

The heritage for which their blood was dearly paid? 

57 



TO THE AMERICAN EAGLE. 
Thou bird of broad, unwearied wing, soar on. 

Soar on, oh. Eagle bold for liberty! 
When Freedom's hope from king-curst lands was gone, 

Thy pinions fanned her barque across the sea. 

O'er rock-walled Appalachia thou didst lead 
Our fathers on where valleys woke to peace; 

O'er waiting plain and river still didst speed. 

And mountains stored of old witli wealth's increase. 

High in thy wake arose the voice of song 

That Toil-triumphant rolled to heav'n again. 

A dawn-born babe e'er noon-tide brave and strong 
With thee looked out upon tlie western main. 

With beak of steel agleam with fiery wrath 
And iron talons fierce in righteous cause, 

Tore thou the human curse on Progress' path— 

The monster darl^ that shamed Columbia's laws. 

The islands of the Carib long forgot, 

Antilles' Eden into inferno turned 
By proud Iberian masters, knowing not 

The quality of mercy, a beacon burned 



58 



To call thee down a Avrong- of Man to rig-ht: 

And stunning was t,he swiftness of the stroke 

That like a Jove-hurled bolt's resistless miglit 
The century-rusted chains ot bondage broke. 

Kor hast thou paused above its peaceful sands 

And listless seen the vast Pacific lie 
Between thine own and sun-lit, sea-girt lands 

Where millions long oppressed for rescue cry. 

Give thou them freedom 'neath thy victor-wing. 

Yield not thy conquest to the lords of greed. 
Plant there the seeds whence peace and knowledge spring, 

And every fruit that serves the age's need. 

Oh bird of heaven, forever he thou thus 

Defender bold of human life and right, 
And lead thou us— ay, ever lead thou us— 

Still onward, upward, toward the perfect light. 



A BALLAD OF THE FLEETS. 

It is midnig-lit at Manila and the ghostly mists hang" still 
Over water, over island, over fort and in-shore hill. 
All is quiet with the dreamy, drowsy silence of the East: 
Save the sentry's measured pacing every sound of life has 
ceased. 

But the low waves murmur softly as they roll upon the' 

strand. 
Are they whispering a secret to their playmate, to the sandr 
And the far-off stars are trembling in the overbending 

height: 
Do they signal down the danger floating under them; 

tonight? 

On the Spanish fleet the gunners, resting in the arms of Fate, 
The coming of her hour of doom unconsciously await 
While behind Night's fading curtain the feet of Dawn draw 

nigh, 
Walking silent over hilltops far where meet the land and sky. 

But the walls of steel and darkness hide no sleep-closed foe- 
man's eye 

Where with War's hand at the helm. Death with poised dart 
standing by. 

Safe within the harbor creep they ere the watchman is aware 

'ISTeath the lower fallen drapery of the May-morn hanging 
there. 

60 



'* Armas! A las armas!" cries the sentry pointing to 

The grey-darlv monster^; loomuig the grey-white vapors 

througli. 
•*Arm.s! To arms!" as nearer still the armored menace floats, 
And Cavite's loud challenge roars from flaming iron throats. 

The fleets impatient wait the sun on this historic day, 
Mars' ancient game, men's lives tor pawns, in lust of blood 

to play. 
And when the ev'ning comes again, o'erswept by frightened 

waves 
Lie sliell-torn hulls that coffin men low-laid in oozy graves. 

Withhold not honor from the slain. Died they as warriors 

die, 
The men of Spain who now at rest 'neath lost Manila lie. 
Thank we the G-od of Battles that to ours the vict'ry fell. 
Ah ! Did the G^od of Justice breath e this day the f lamies of hell? 



61 



IlSr MEMORIAN-MAY 30TH. 

Over the wire 

Speeds on wings of fire 
From sea to sea, from gulf to lake, the wild alarm of war, 
And bus5^ mart and teeming field and mountains wild afa 

To trump and drum awake. 

Rebellion now 

Takes being, and his brow 
Defiant rears where Charleston's palms look on her sunni 

bay. 
Quaking 'neath the thunders of the battery's fiery play, 

And Sumter's flag is furled. 

But patriot eyes 

Uplifted, 'gainst the skies 
Behold above the battle's cloud the banner Glory gave 
Over sacred dust ancestral with unsullied folds to wave. 

And smouldering fires reglow. 

With brave reply 
To prostrate Union's cry, 
To rescue come her legions strong in proud young man- 
hood's might. 
With fathers', mothers', lovers' prayers sent forth in caui 
of Right- 
As ocean's tides they come. 

62 



They face a foe 
Of valorous blood, and know 
Long years the crimsoned tented field ere Error writhes 

in dust, 
Peace spreads her wings beneath One Flag, the sword is red 
with rust, 

And broken ranks return. 

For those that sleep, 

Let a grateful country keep 
Vigil sacred and unending where the ashes of the dead, 
Whose sacrifice was for all time, in reverence are laid 

To wait the morn eterne. 

Let flowers rest 
In fragrance on each breast- 
Sweet blossoms wreathed and gently strewn by children's 

spotless hands- 
While years revolve and with each Spring in Summ.er's 
doorway stands: 

They offered flowers of life. 



63 



BE A MAN. 

If you can not be a liero, 

Lead a nation's arms to glory, 
Write your name in letter's gory 
'Mong the great in song and story, 

You may be a Man. 

If you can not be a monarch, 
Holding in a mighty hand 
The scepter o'er a mighty land, 
Erect and proud you still may stand- 

You may be a Man. 

If you can not be a painter. 
May not limn the uncreate. 
Pigment, canvas insensate 
Change to life's immortal state, 

You may be a Man. 



If you can not be a poet, 

Sing to all the world for ages 
Deathless verse as Homer's pages 
That must live while passion rages, 

You may be a Man. 

And in truth there's nothing greater 
Than the noblest work of Q-od, 
An honest sovereign of the sod 
Unwhipt of vice's scathing rod— 

A clean-souled common man. 



64 



THE ASTROLOGERS. 
In the dim and misty dawning of the morning of the race, 
The sun of Conscious-Inteliect, with burning Jance of 
light, 
Far eastward, cycles struggling, found at last a rifted space 
In the swirling clouds of Chaos to attack the hosts of 
Xight; 

To attack the formless demons who would screen the mind 

of man 

From the over-mind of God that through Nature's 

changeless laws 

Working in the lapsing ages, working to pre-ordered plan, 

Sliall bring to all one concept of creation's Primal Cause; 

To place within the grasp of Man Himself the spear and shield 
Of thought and judgment and enlist his hand against 
the foe; 
For long must rage the battle ere the stubborn band will 
yield. 
And Error's wrecks must strew the tide of time in 
onward flow. 

He must war with superstition, passion, ignorance, and call 
His mind to claim its heritage of deathlessness and 
power- 
To claim its freedom from the flesh, no more to be in thrall 
To an earthly form and substance that shall perish as a 
flower. 

65 



Ay, long the strife lias been, relentless, opened once to 
never cease. 
Intellect with. each, repulsing gaining deeper, broader 
strength, 
Reenforced for each assault and offering never terms of 
peace, 
Won a base for final conquest of a waiting world atj 
length. 

To lonely shepherds watching, through Chaldea's crystal airj 

Faintly heard, the clash of armor with its wakening 

challenge came 

From the mystic fires of heaven, glowing fixed eternalj 

there, 

And Science first on earth had found a being, place and 
name. 

Still the slender shaft is flying that the gentle shepherds 
hurled 
In that far, forgotten era when the conflict thus begun 
Nothing in itself could foretell of the progress of the worldi 
As the trembling star of midnight gives no hint oj: 
rising sun. 



66 



Falls to us the ancient warfare. We must lace the hosts of 
Night 
Standing grim before the forces of our thought and will 
and heart. 

Ours to move in phalanx forward, ours to press the ceaseless 
fight. 
Ours to widen fields now conquered acting each a 
worthy part: 



SLUG SIX. 

The foreman moved with a softened tread 
O'er the black and littered floor, 
And his grizzled head bent lower 

While an added stoop his shoulder wore. 

With a tear in his eye and a heart-born sigh 
He whispered, "Slug Six is dead." 

"Poor old Slug Six!'* The printers knew 
How the foreman felt that day— 
That his friend had gone away 
Where the souls of good men rest for aye 
In the radiance bright of the land of light, 
The home of the tried and true. 



6T 



''Slug Six and I were boys as yet," 

(He was stern with, living men, 

But Ms tones were woman's then,) 
"When we came to the office together, and when 
We earned our cases and took our places 

And life's first takes we set. 

"He wooed my sister, and his I won. 
We were wedded the self-same time, 
And our hearts heard the same love-chime 

As the years sped on to manhood's prime. 

And our little ones played in the same cool shade 
Or romped in the same glad sun. 

"Our friendship bound as a golden chain 

Us two in this selfish sphere 

Where oft we pay so dear 
For a friendship only from lip to ear; 
For each knew the other clung nearer than brother 

When trouble came close in his train. 

"Old Slug Six was a workman, too. 

His case was always clean 

No dirty proof was seen 
Ever passed to his slug, though his light be mean: 
His column's edge straight as the path trod by Fate, 

Every line of it justified true. 



68 



"There lie on hi« case his rule and sticks, 

His tools in a life-work long-— 

A life that now seems a song 
Of toil with patience, with naug-ht that was wrong. 
As silver they're brig-ht in the dim, dusty light, 

Like the record of dead Slug Six. 

"Let his pipe and his glasses lie on the sill, 

And his apron hang still on its nail. 

You remember how trembling and pale 
His hand, like the death-barque's quivering sail, 
When he hung it there last and unmurmuring passed 

From his work to his home on the hill. 

"Drape the hand-press, boys, with crape for its friend: 

Put a knot on the lever 

He pulled, for it never 
Will feel such a hand as his was forever. 

And all that was his leave jiisr as it is 
Till w^e see in the graveyard Ihe end. 

"Cxod rest him, my comrade and brother! And when 

'Time' is called in my ear 

May I quit with good cheer. 
And hand in my string at the Desk without fear. 
May my proofs be all done, galleys ready to run, 

As were his, is my prayer. Amen." 



A SPRING SONQ. 
Merrily O, Merrily O, 

Across the bare fields spring- chases the snow. 
Clothed with the sunshine stie gaily trips forth, 
And winter, abashed, steals av/ay to the north. 
In her foot-jjrints the violets raise their blue eyes 
And peep from their beds at the deep, liquid skies. 
The birds in the trees are rocked by the breeze, 
The breath of her laughter as on she flies after 
The tyrant whose ice-beard still melts as he flees. 

The blackbird is singing his "tee, le le ling.*' 

The ro bin is bathing his beak in the spring 

Where the light dimples play as the stream on its way 

Passing under the willows smiles back at the day. 

There Is love 'mong the songsters, each seeking bis mat| 

And a place for her nest in tlie hedge by the gate. i 

There is cawing of crows and cro\ving of cocUvS, 

And bleating of lambs as they race with the flocks. : 

Without and within is the unending din 

Of the farm when its labors in earnest begin. 

There is love 'mong the swains when at eve from the plov 
Each Ike finds his 'Bekah in the midst of her cows. 
With her milk-pail a-brimming, iier true heart a- 

sv/imming 
In its own sea of purity, ling'ring she'll stand 

70 



By the creaking' lot gate wUli her shapely white haiid 

On its latoli and deny him the way to the well, 

While her blooming- round cheek and her dancing' black 

eye 
Weave a net round his heart never woven by art 
Whose meshes will hold till life's fo-antain runs dry. 
Oh love, what thy chc;rm and how x^otent thy spell! 

With banter and laugh, the low bar bending over, 
Like a bee when it seeks the sweet lips oi: the clover 
Whose nectar it kisses away with the dew, 
So quick to her lips ere his meaning she guesses 
The o'er-tempted plowman his own boldly presses- 
Blame not the brave youth, for to nature he's true. 
Loud laugh the rude rustics, while mantled in blushes 
Like a lakelet when sunset streams red through its rushes 
Away to the dairy she like a fairy 

Of the old German forest, who tripped where the glades 
Were lit by tlie moon whose liglit not more airy 
Was than the dancers who trooped from the shades, 
Flies with her heart more tenderly beating, 
Thrilled and subdued with young love's blissful greeting. 



71 



LOVE'S QUESTION AND ANSWER. 
Give me promise, tell me true— 

When years have flown, and youth is gone, 

And I no more am fair, 
Oh, will for me thy love live on— 
Will yet thy love for me live on 

When I no more am fair? 
Give me promise, tell me true. 

I thee promise, doubt not me— 

When with years slow thy youth shall go 

Thou' It be to me as now— 
My heart's love still for thee shall glow, 
Its altar fire as brightly glow— 

Thou'lt be to me as now, 
1 thee promise, doubt not me. 



72 



FINIS. 

And art thou, Death, but Sleep- 
Rest pulseless, silent, deep, 
Undreaming- while the years 
Roll on? With doubts and fears 
The living still contend 
And tears with laughter blend 
For them, but not the dead? 
When life's frail cables part. 
Stilled is the bounding heart. 
Nor eye responds to light, 
Then say we *'It is night 
Eternal." But could we 
What lies beyond this see, 
Mayhap we'd say: '* 'T is morn: 
Who lies here is but born 
In disembodiment." 
Then might we be content 
That we so swiftly run 
This mortal course, begun 
We know not how nor where 
Nor why— and should we care? 
Why strive with mysteries 
That must fore'er be His 
Despite what mind may do 
To pierce the dark veil through? 



Y3 



THE NEW YEAR. 
Adown the icy steep another year is gone- 
Down to where the gulf of Hath- been yawns 
To swallow all the years of earth, Time's children. 
Pinched was his face and haggard, and his eye 
Was f ireless, blinded with the snow. 
His locks whipt white in the ruthless air. 
His body, robeless, frail and shrunk with age, 
Unsteady limbs and broken staff upbore 
With trembling remnant of departing strength. 
A hollow moan his voice. No more 
With gladsome speech and song he cheered 
The sons of toil with promise fair 
Of toil's reward. His work was done. 
He brought them opportunity. He gave 
Them time to sow, to cultivate, the golden moons 
Of harvest, and passed on not looking back, 
But leaving them with will or strong or weak to do 
How well they used these gifts was not his care, 
Or if they were despised he did not heed, 
For each must answer to and for himself 
How much he's done or failed to do of what he couldl 
Since spring, his first gift, blooming fell 
From his warm hand. 

The year is type of life. 
Man has his time to sow, to till, to reap. 



74 



'T is his to will what he shall garner when 

The time of harvest comes, as come it must^ 

Ah, with what report shall I respond. 

And each of us, when hath life's Master called 

For an aooo anting? At the ead can we 

With courage say, "I wrought the best I knew?" 

The year that 's born today resolve to live 
So well that whether Fortune smile or frown 
On worldly strivings that must each engage, 
Sweet Conscience upon our hearts may pour 
A soothing balm and spare us all remorse. 



75 



HEROD'S FEAST. 
Within an Eastern prison's noisome cell, 
Dank and dark and narrow, guarded lay 
Tlie Last-sent Prophet, Christ's forerunner, bound. 
No wrong was his. No law of God or man 
By him was violate. But speaking bold 
Against illicit love of him in whom 
Was vested Roman power in Galilee 
Had drawn upon his head the cruel hate 
Of woman, more relentless e'er than man 
When in her heart revenge doth cry for blood. 

Again the year brought round the festal day 

On which was Herod wont to celebrate 

His birth, and in his palace halls at night 

A gathered host of guests at table sat. 

And jest and story, song and laughter, rang 

Around the board and echoed froiTi the walls. 

Red shone the wine as brimming cups were drained, 

And with its fire to warm the full-fed veins 

Still louder waxed the mirth on thickening tongues 

Till jest and song and boasting tale grew flat. 

Then spake a favored one at Herod's right, 

"Oh King, hast not a damsel thou whose grace 

**Can wing the hours ere they begin to creep?" 

Then joined they all, "A dance 1 A dance, Oh King." 



76 



And Herod sent a message to his wife 
Commanding' that into his presence come 
Her daughter, versed in subtle arts to please— 
A girl whose beauty well might captivate 
E'en sober brains and hearts that sought no more 
Than woman's perfect form and passion's eye 
And movement wrought with oriental grace. 

Admired of all, within the tempered light 

She paused^ her lips apart in timid smile, 

And dark, full orbs aglow with un fanned fire; 

With pearls and gold bedecked, and wealth of hair 

Revealing, hiding, marking stronger still, 

Each charm of neck and arm and billowing breast; 

With robes that threw in well-designed relief 

The beauty-lines that most appeal to men 

In sensuous mood or heated with the cup. 

Then silence while she danced or comment under breath, 

And loud acclaim of praise when she had done. 

With Herod's words most generous of all. 

With the exertion flushed and childish pride. 
She stood before him, called. With reckless tongue, 
**Most graceful thou," he said, **and worthy of 
"Our favor to the full. Ask what thou wilt 
"To equal power with us. It shall be thine. 
"These guests do hear— thy dearest wish prefer." 

7T 



A child she was, and still obedient to 

Her mother; and until she knew her will 

She would not speak, but straightway sought her side. 

The proud Herodias, nursing fire of hate, 

Resolved that he this festal night should die 

Who had offended not the law but her. 

So to the child she said, '-Of Herod ask 

"That unto you he bring the head of him 

"In bonds and prison lying now for me. 

"He knoweth whom, nor dare he to refuse 

"What he hath sworn before all men to do." 

When at his feet again she stood, she spake 

According to the words her mother gave. 

Then laughter failed within the palace walls. 

O'er Herod's face a pallor came. A groan 

Escaped his lips, for fear had come between 

His hand and John, whose innocence he knew, 

And whom the people held as sent of God. 

But could he now before his guests abjure 

His oath and live by them unworthy deemed of Rome? 

His word was out: he must be Herod still. 

He called a captain to him from the guard 

And trembling whispered in his ear the word. 

Two in the dungeon stand with lamp and sword. 
The Prophet sees the blade without a trace 



78 



Of fear upon his strong and rugged face, 

And asks "What would ye, men, with me this night?" 

They answer him, "Thy head would Herod have 

"To grace the feast which he doth celebrate. 

"Tax not his patience with our long delay, 

"Lest we likewise 'neath his displeasure fall." 

"A sword's swift stroke 'tween Q-od's own face and me, 

"His servant, all unworthy Him to serve! 

"My life is Herod's, but my spirit His 

"To whom it flies— strike quickly as thou wilt." 

He kneels. A flash within the narrow walls 

Like summer lightning's play. A torrent red. 

A form that sinks and shudders, then is still. 

A gasp and closing eyes— and opening Heaven. 

The feast is past— the banquet hall is dark. 
Herodias dreams of wrathful conquest won, 
While Herod sleepless walks and asks with dread, 
"What if from out the tomb he come again?" 



T9 



REVELATION-A TALE OF CHRISTMAS. 
Two homes stood beside a worn higliway 
Where the feet of the dead and the living 
Had trod the red soil into atoms, 
And the winds and the rains had removed them. 
Their doorways stood facing each other, 
And their windows looked down on the trav'lers 
Who constantly eastward or westward 
Fared in unending procession, 
The old faces gradually going 
And leaving their places to new ones. 
On the one hand the glow of the wood-fire 
Was ruddy and cheerful as childhood 
As it shone through the old-fashioned casements, 
Illuming the face of the passer 
Who glanced as he hurried on homeward 
At the happiness it was a part of. 
Within there dwelt three generations: 
The grand-parents on whose thin temples 
The snows of their seventy winters- 
Snows the warmth of this world cannot sof ten- 
Lay white as on Andean summits. 
Sat on opposite sides of the hearth-stone. 
He smoked in contentment the clay pipe 
Which his grand-daughter filled and presented 
With a kiss and a stroke of his forehead. 
She busied her fingers with knitting 



80 



Or smiled at the Irolicsome children 

Who played round her soft-cushioned rocker, 

Oft pausing to ask the old questions 

She had answered their parents before them 

About Santa Glaus and his reindeer. 

And how he gets down through the fireplace 

Without scorching the fur of his clothing. 

Careless were both; for the future 

VT'as bright with the bow of the promise, 

And the past had been prosp'rous and happy. 

The brows of the parents were thoughtful, 

But grateful hearts shone through their faces; 

For ne'er had the death-angel call'd them 

To sorrow, or ill-fortune fallen, 

But always the Good Lord had blest them. 

Whatever their hands had engaged in. 

And now, when life's summer was ending, 

They rested amid what they'd gathered. 

Living only for those they had brought from 

The mystic Eterne to the Present. 

But over the way there were dreary, 

Dark windows, with Want looking through them. 

Misfortune had long time abode there. 

The father had labored while waiting, 

For the shadow he saw surely settling 

To deepen and shut the world from him. 



81 



It had fallen, and flowers had blossomed 

One summer above him. Her sorrows 

Had broken the poor mother's spirit, 

And her frail body's strength was fast waning; 

For her eldest had died ere his father, 

Whose hope he had been for the future, 

A staff they would have still to lean on 

When he should be gone from among them. 

Yet she toiled as always a mother 

Will toil till the grave opens for her 

That the little ones left to her keeping 

Might feel not poverty's presence. 

But in vain. And the chill winds of winter 

Swept round them and laughed in the windows, 

And mocked when the door was thrown open 

At the want and the sorrow within it. 

The eyes of the children grew hollow; 

From their lips fled the music of laughter; 

They stood at the window^s and wondered 

At what their young minds saw so darkly— 

Why the width of the time-worn old highway 

Should to them be the gulf that shut Dives 

From the Beggar in Abraham's bosom. 

*T was the eve that the chorus of angels 
Sang ''Good Will" over star-lighted hilltops. 
All day the children had noted 

82 



The stir and the glad preparation 

For the feast and the joy of the morrow. 

The surprises the young ones should wake to 

In the home with the sun-lighted portal. 

But the darkness grew thicker and chiller 

And the fatherless babes at the window 

Cried with the cold and the hunger 

That the mother could give no relief from. 

Grief burst from the wan suff 'rer's bosom, 

And the children turned from their watching, 

Kissed her with arms round her shoulders, 

Each whispering "Mamma, I love you," 

And asking her why she was weeping. 

She pressed them close to heart then 

And said "Because mamma loves you." 

They held her pale face in their thin hands, 

Wiped the tears from her cheeks and her lashes, 

Kissed her again and the sadness 

Faded out of their lives. For the moment 

Forgot were the cold and the hunger 

In the heart-glow of love, and the music 

Of the little ones' innocent prattle 

Drove the lank wolf from the threshold. 

But the lights o'er way flaring brighter 
And a faintly-heard shout floating on them. 
They begged that they might cross the roadway 



83 



And stand in the broad wedge of whiteness 

That opened the dark wall ol shadow 

Night builded so strongly between them 

To see what the meaning of Christmas. 

She could not deny them their asking, 

For naught other had she to offer. 

So wrapping them in their scant garments 

She took in her arms the two babies 

And silently crossed to the casement, 

Stealing joy for hearts of her children. 

The beams from within soon betrayed them 

To the quick eye of one of the household 

Who called to the others and pointed 

To where like a flash three white faces 

Turned to the darkness and vanished. 

With the flash to the father and mother 

Came the shock of a swift revelation 

That smote to their heart-depths as lightning. 

Unsealing their fountains of feeling. 

With tears gushing over her eyelids, 

"Oh Saviorl" she cried, *'How we blindly 

**See thee not while thy name we do honorl 

**How little on this thy dear birth-night 

*'Do our hearts feel the love thou didst give us." 

'*Come, wife," said the father arising. 

And they hurried out where in the glooming 

The three were seen staggering homeward 



84 



With, sobs from the little ones breaking 
As they clung" in their fright to their mother. 
A gleam from the hallway upon them 
Fell full as the door was flung open. 
The mother sank down as she saw them 
Approaching in haste to o'ertake her. 
''Forgive us," she prayed, "but 't was heaven 
"To these my poor babes for one moment 
"To look on the scenes at your hearth-side. 
"I know it was wrong and ask pardon; 
"For I sball be gone ere the Christ-night 
"Again this drear world shall curtain. 
"But these, my inaocent children, 
"Too young 3"et to know— not to suffer—" 

Before she could conquer her feeling 

She was borne in strong arms to the fireside 

And placed in the mother's soft rocker. 

The babies, wide-eyed in their wonder, 

Were carried away to the wardrobe 

And clothed in the warmest of garments 

From those of the household's own youngest. 

Soon for the three was a feast spread 

Such as the little ones never 

Had sat to; the mother in long time. 

And w^hen with the food more of color 

Had mantled their cheeks, and brighter 



85 



Tlie lights in their eyes had arisen, 

A chapter was read and th e father 

Poured fervently forth to the Giver 

The thanks from their hearts overflowing 

For the lesson the night had thus taught them. 

Nor would they suffer the widow 

And babes to return to their dwelling 

So cheerless and bare for the winter, 

But gave them a home sweet with comfort. 

So passed the snow and the spring came: 

Came to the children as liappy 

And playful as lambs in the meadows. 

But with it the mother grew weaker, 

And when from the brook-side in May-time 

They brought to her fragrant wild blossoms 

She kissed the brown hands that had plucked them, 

Whispered "Farewell" and a blessing. 

And her spirit went out from its prison. 

They buried her where she had wished them, 

By the side of her son and her husband, 

And carved on a shaft of pale marble 

The names of the three silent sleepers. 

Soon was forgotten the sorrow 

The little ones felt in her going. 

And her memory was but the fragrance 



86 



That a flower will leave when it 's withered 

In the book 'tween whose pages we pressed it. 

With the years they learned more of their childhood 

And the home they had left o'er the roadway, 

The story of that night at the window, 

And the lesson it bore and the blessing. 

Then as womanhood's fullness came to them 

They sought to repay all with loving 

And serving G-od's poor as He taught them 

Whose birth had the chorus celestial 

Announced in the glad song of "Good Will." 



8T 



DREAM-WINGED. 
Once when the dewy-pinioned summer nig-ht 
Hovered o'er me, weary with the toil 
That earth doth daily claim of hand and brain, 
And 'neath the soothing coolness I had sunk 
Into the silent depths of restful sleep, 
Beside my couch a beauteous Dream did stand— 
A Dream more fair than mortal tongue or pen 
Can to the mind describe, or limner's slUU 
With form and color to the eye reveal. 
Its face of pallid light, ethereal, pure. 
Upon me smiled in solemn happiness. 
And such compassion beamed as never shone 
From other face below but only His. 
No word its lips did ope; but hending low 
Within its own ray passive hand it clasped 
And to its pulseless bosom gently pressed. 
No movement felt or saw I then, but knew 
Earth's darkling mass far lost in misty space, 
And dimmest stars as seen from her now sprung 
To blazing suns, and spheres through ether whirled 
Sang to my ear the primal hymn of heaven. 

And now I found my Dream and me beside 

A stream with surface calmer than the face 

Of healthful childhood borne in Slumber's arms. 

No ripple marred it rolled by breeze that breathed 



88 



From either shore. The waters lay as clear 

As floor of crystal 'neath the eye that saw 

Yet could not pierce the mov^eless, mystic deep. 

Above it hung a cloud as white as floats 

When June across her bluest height unfolds 

Her fleeciest banner to her softest air, 

That hid the farther shore with brightness dense. 

* 'Brother, this is death," my vision spoke 

And in her own took both my willing hands. 

But to me came not fear nor dread, but peace 

In body never mine to know. My soul 

Would see beyond; and with the wish there broke 

A moment's rift before my eager sight. 

Btiyond the vail there walked a joyous band 

Of beings such as she who bore me to 

This shore where Time his loose-held claim resigns. 

Within my call they seemed to move, with fields 

Beneath their feet like those we fondly see 

When Memory brings to Age sweet childhood's scenes— 

Whose paths were gay with flowers and soft with moss 

That cooled the tired feet. And farther ranged 

The hills eternal, crowned with trees that rose 

Above their summits robed in fadeless green 

And vocal with wild music trilled by birds 

As deathless as the day that lights their sphere. 

The rift was closed; but joy ecstatic swept 

Still o'er me, and I cried "If death be this. 



89 



"To cross a stormless tide and be with, ttiem 
"Who dwell where death is not, I would 
"That I might pass from what earth knows as life 
"With all its fruits that into ashes turn." 

A heart's beat from me sight was gone; and when 

Again it came upon that farther strand 

I stood with beings of my Dream-guide's form 

About me. Songs of grove-choirs far and sweet, 

Incense rising from the floral fires. 

With perfumes borne from fragrant-foliaged heights, 

O'ercame my untried spirit and I sank 

Into the arms my Dream to me outheld. 

A kiss she on my forehead pressed and with the kiss 

A tear of pity and of tend'rest love let fail. 

Revived, I heard the converse glad of those 

Who spoke with her whose tear still damped my brow: 

I heard the name of "Letha," and I knew 

The baby-sister mine in childhood's years. 

And with that name so long on earth unspoke, 

Existent here but on the stone that marks 

The spot where 'neath the little mound I saw 

Her peaceful, snowy face forever hid, 

Joy swept upon my heart so deep a flood 

That life of earth awoke with all its burdens still. 



90 



LEGEND OF SPIRIT LAKE. 
It is a legend weird and old 
Tliat still by Lac d' Esprit is told, 
Wliose bosom clear and deep and cold 
Throws back the h ue of northern skies 
And cloud or bird that 'neath them flies— 
So mirror-bright its surface lies. 

In depths unpierced by mortal sight 

With his lone love whose face of white 

That glows like heaven's far lamps of night 

Drives back the shadows to their cells, 

Bold Star-of-Day, the Lost Chief dwells— 

Lost Chief whose breast with vengeance swells. 

His wrath the wild Dakotan fears, 

And ne'er across the water steers 

His rocking craft, lest his listening ears 

Catch the paddle's plash, or his eyes perchance, 

Its silvery flash in the sunbeam's glance. 

Or the prow-rolled ripples that shine and dance. 

For he rouses the dread storm-fiend who rends 
The thongs of the tempest- wolves and sends 
Them howling over the lake, and bends 
The lightning's bow till its anger breaks 
In crash and roar and the scared earth quakes, 
The startled ooze in the dark deep shakes, 



91 



And the boatman sinks to the world below. 
But watching there, their own they know; 
And the water sleeps in its placid glow 
When the face that floats above is white 
Like the far, dim lamps of heaven at night 
That drop down quivering threads of light. 



Widely roamed the Dakotas 
In the fair, crisp days of the autumn 
When the prairies turned brown and the forests 
Resplendent in gold and in crimson 
Burned in the soft yellow sunshine 
That blended the frost-painter's touches, 
Seeking the haunts of the bison 
And the deer that fed on the meadows. 
Close by the Father of Waters 
Curled upward the smoke from their tepees; 
Or near to the margins of lakelets- 
Footprints of the Great Spirit- 
Shining from out the broad landscape. 
There speared they the fish and the turtle; 
There gathered they fruits from the thickets; 
There dried they the flesh that the hunters 
Brought from the long, weary chases 
For their living when back to the village 
The North wind should drive them and Winter 
Should lock up the storehouse of Nature. 



92 



Or far on the Mightier River 

AVhose waters are turbid and angry 

As tliey roll with the thaws from the mountains 

Swift to the gulf where the Southland 

Bathes in the sunheated tide-waves, 

Their brave men followed the warpath, 

And the blood of their enemies stained it 

Behind them where Death's shadow lingered. 

Homeward they turned them rejoicing, 

Flaunting the gore-knotted scalplocks, 

Trophies of valor the old men 

Looked on and boasted of bold deeds 

Themselves had accomplished aforetime, 

Ere Age, the patient old warrior, 

Had stript them of strength and endurance 

And bidden them stay w^ith the women. 

Young Star-of-Day was their war-chief. 

Brown was his face as his fellows'; 

Matted and black were his long locks; 

Keen was his eye as the eagle's. 

Stronger his arm was than any 

That followed him, and in the am. bush 

None was as he so successful; 

While in the fury of battle 

His stroke was the stroke of the lightning 

Whose flash rives the heart of the oak tree. 



93 



In Ms veins coursed the blood of the white man. 

He knew it not; for he never 

Had known the fond mother who bore him, 

The mother who long years had mourned him. 

The squaw who had nourished his childhood 

Had stolen him from the rude cradle 

Where, crowing and catching at sunbeams, 

He lay in the cabin at evening 

Where the land of the pioneer paleface 

Touched the domain of Dakota. 

She named him from the star-whiteness 

Of his face as it glowed in the twilight. 

Kind had she been, and he loved her 

And thought of her ever as mother. 

He was loved of the tribes, and they trained him 

In all the rude arts of the warrior, 

That he should succeed Um-pa-sho-ta, 

The Chief whom their old men had followed. 

One eve as the band by a lake side 
Stopped for rest from their marching, 
There lay, wearied out with exertion 
In following day-long her captors, 
A maiden of radiant beauty 
Weeping upon the coarse grasses. 
White was her face as the starlight, 
Golden her hair as the sunset. 



94 



Blue were her eyes as the heavens, 

And she pleadingly looked at the Chieftain 

In silence, Imploring compassion. 

She reached the bold heart with her prayer. 

He pitied her sorrow and loved her. 

He felt in his breast a new impulse 

Unknown to the tribes of the prairie, 

And knew he was not a Dakotan. 

When the braves had sunk into slumber 

Deep and undreaming around him, 

He stole to the maiden who sleepless 

Still sobbed as she lay on the grasses, 

Lionely and frightened and trembling. 

He loosened the thongs that had bound her, 

And lifting her up in his strong arms 

Bore her quickly out from among them. 

And down where the waters complaining 

Impatiently beat on the margin 

In musical murmurs, though sullen. 

There rested half drawn on the dry land 

A boat. It was frail and unsteady, 

But safety lay over the waters. 

Escaped from the bands of Dakota, 

Thej^'d fly to the land of the white men; 

For the new revelation within him 

Had told him that their blood was his blood. 



95 



There would he love her he'd rescued. 

Half across the expanse he had paddled 

When the breath of the east wind grew stronger 

And the wavelets, now tipped with the silver 

The moon as she rose threw upon them, 

Grew rough in their play, leaping over 

The low-floating sides of the vessel. 

It sank; and the Chief and the maiden 

Went down to the world of the dead men. 

Sinking he cursed the Dakotas. 

In the caverns of Death lie still hates them, 

And none of the tribes dare offend him 

By crossing the lake where they perished; 

For the storms will obey him. Destruction 

He sends o'er the face of the water. 

And thus have the tribes of the northland 

Been taught to shudder and whisper 

When they speak of the lake and its story— 

The death-haunted Lake of the Spirit. 



96 



IN PENTSrVE MOOD. 
Wh.eii the pale moDri's gentle beam. 
Falls on wood and Villi and stream: 
When the world at rest doth lie. 
Death's silence rules below, on hig'h; 
Then music not for these dull ears 
The earth-forsaking spirit hears— 
Soul-chords waked by heavenly lingers' 
Touching, and the soft throb lingers 
Echoing through rapt Psyche's cells: 
Rising, falling, sinks and swells 
With the moods that mind control 
While Time's unheeded tide doth roll. 
Thus when Luna's gentle beam 
Falls on wood and hill and stream. 

Oft when the sun's last gleam of gold 
Hath died and stars glow faint and cold 
And from my life-task weary I 
Walk pensive 'neath the lowered sky, 
I set me free from form of earth 
And feel the joy of that new birth 
Wherein at last all things shall be 
Made known—the doors of Mystery 
Swung wide and every secret lie 
Revealed before the perfect eye. 



9^ 



Communion lull and sweet Is here, 

Life ecstatic, vision clear, 

Care forgot in realm of bliss 

With peace of heart unknown in this: 

Thus from weariness I fly 

And pensive walk beneath the sky 

When the sun's last gleam of gold 

Hath died and stars glow faint and cold. 



98 



FAIR WASHINOTON. 
Oh Washington, fail* Washington, 
That liest toward the slaking aim, 
Thy fields ot grain all waving free, 
Thy fruits that smile from bending tree, 
Thy wealth of woodland, stream and sea— 
These make thy people proud ot thee. 

And well they know, oh Washington, 
Thy course of empire 's but begun. 
Swift glide thy waters ocean waits, 
Broad lie thy harbors' open gates 
That look away where orient lands 
Stretch out to thee tiielr eager liarids. 

Oh Washington, thou Borderland, 
Firm as thy name thy fame shall stand. 
With brave hearts wrought thy pioneers, 
And looked with Hope to future years: 
And now to her full promise come 
Content enjoy each toil-made home. 



99 



Thou wilt not fail them, Washington, 
But with each cycle of the sun 
Wilt bring to labor more and more 
The riches of thy boundless store— 
Unplanted vales with fruit shall glow. 
Mines yield their treasures hidden low. 

And thousands from the eastern main 
And inland's wide-extending plain 
Still follow where tliy mountains rise 
And beckon 'neath thy stormless skies 
To where the waters foam and roar 
On rivers' rocks or wave-beat shore,. 

Thou wilt bid welcome, Washington, 
The tide that westward yet shall run,. 
And give to them who seek thy clime 
Rewards for toil that come with time; 
For never fails thy favored land. 
To recompense the patient hand. 



lOO 



Mn ICtglytf r ten. 



THE POLITICIAN'S PLAINT. 
Heaven lies about us in our infancy, we're told. 

Fond.wonien call us handsome wlien we're uglier 
tlian sin. 
But when we've grown to voters and tat ollices would 
hold, 
Oh, 't is then the world around us gets its line work in. 



MISUNDERSTOOD. 
*'I've something here," the lank man said, 

"That will please your taste, I think." 
But the editor did not raise his head, 

For he busily slung the ink. 

'*A lew nice pomes," the visitor quoth, 

"With the Ireshness of fragrant trees" - 

The editor muttered a tearful oath— 
"Mellow as an evening breeze." 

'•We can't use po'ms," the editor saith. 

On his broad brow deepened the scowl. 
The lank one turned as pale as death. 

For he heard the bulldog growl. 

And he fled straightway. His basket fell 
Right down by the editor's chair, 

While the red-ripe apples rolled pell-mell 
On the bare floor everywhere. 



101 



AD ASTRA PER ASPSRA. 
He came to Kansas wlien tlie state was young, 

And lie likewise was in tlie dew of youth. 
Entliusiasm loosed and moved Ms tongue, 

And lie sang liigh. of duty and of truth. 

The years rolled on, and there ripened in him 

A laudable ambition to arise 
Above the petty things that sought to win him, 

And write his name iiL gold upon the skies. 

But hard the struggle was, and youth was flown, 
Yet did his name not blaze among the stars. 

Sorrow settled on his heart, a mighty storie. 

And on his brow were disappointment's scars. 

He sadly sighed, "A humbler name I'll make— 
A name that shall be known upon the earth. 

In life's great game I'll win a minor stake- 
Not all in vain shall have been my birth." 

The steak he won. He made the name more humble, 
And now 's beyond life's promise or its menace. 

Within the cemetery upon the name you'll stumble— 
'T is on a wooden headboard and is "Denis." 



10^ 



A CRARITABLE THOUaHT. 
n in tiie road perciiance yoa see 

Before you wetidiiig slow liis Vv^ay 
A traveler wiiose pants niaj^ be 

A relic ot some by-gone day, 
Don't get gay and speak a thing unkind: 
Reflect tiiat in tlie race of lite lie has come out behind. 



IN THE FALI^. 
Nov/ comes the frosty rnidnigiit, 

And chilling breezes blow. 
'Mong sere leaves in the moonlight 
They sadly whisper low, 

And the jovial muskeeter 
In a^bbrevitxted meter 
Sings a song so much the sweeter 
That we knovv^ his pla7y^ is o'er— 
And Vv^e'll give him no encore. 



TITEORY AND PRACTICE. 
Brains and modesty in man 

Fair i^raise receive from all; 
But when we call at Fortune's door 

The hand-out goes to (lall. 



103 



ME GRAI VANCE. 
Me neighbor Brown wiio lives nixt door 

Is a moighty foine mon, oi must say. 
He lias a good house an' a grocery store, 
An' 'is check it goes ony day 
At the bank, 
An' oi thank 
Me luck whin it 's me thot he owes, 
F'r it is shure oi am av me pay. 

But it 's me thot is sorry he lives nixt door, 

An' oi '11 tell yiz whoy it is true. 
Oi 'm a pacef ul mon an' it makes me sore 
To think the thots that oi do, 
But, bedad, 
Oi am mad 
At the racket oi hear f r'm marn till noight, 
Which the same is the coz av me roar. 

He has a foine gyerl— her name it is Mae, 

An' a purty name it is too. 
He 's bot a pianny I'r her to play 

An' she 's nothing ilse f'r to do. 
So it 's thump, 
Bing, bang, bump, 
Lioike the divil bating tanbark all day long. 
Thot 's the razon f'r me wroth, as oi say. 



104 



FATE OF A KANSAS TERROR. 
He was a western terror, and he thought to have some fun 

By getting- on a merry whizz and taking in the town. 
Like a burnished copper steeple in a setting summer sun 
Shone his nose upon the quiet streets he swaggered up 
and down. 

But the citizens descried 
Him and got on the inside, 
And they left a margin wide 
For this terror on a toot to bravely tread. 

Yes, he swaggered up and down, he looked fierce and 
loudly swore, 
"I 'm a roarer from the land of blood an' bones, 
An' navy cuss I care for the riverlets of gore 

That '11 wash the dust from off'n these here drouthy 
Kansas stones. 

So come out if you dare. 
An' I '11 promptly fill the air 
With a cloud of frazzly hair, 
An' I '11 turn your carcasses into payin' mines o' lead." 

But the people all stayed in, and they barred the outside 

doors, 
And peeped from out the weathershakes up in the 

attic loft, 
Or fled to cyclone cellars like when the storm-wind roars, 



105 



Or the playful western zephyr does the superstructures 
waft. 

So he strode the silent street 
While the spurs upon his feet 
His advance and his retreat 
Told to the cringing inmates of the houses that he passed 

•'I 'm a terror as I told you, an' I '11 eat you on my bread. 

I '11 do your ticky village an' your curdled blood I '11 

spill. 

I '11 drink your fire-water till my nose is cherry red, 

An' your sickly cemetery I '11 most assuredly fill. 

But I did n't come to talk. 

So crawl if you can 't walk, 

An' toe this line o' chalk, 

An' gaze upon the sinkin' sun, for it '11 be your last." 



He ceased, and in the center of the wooden sidewalk dre^ 

From one end of the block to about its middle plank 
A line of ghastly white, and he would have drawn it 
through. 
But his after life terrestial was made a sudden blank 
From the pocket at his hip 
There waved the flashy tip 
Of a red bandana, slip- 
Ping further out as on his stooping way he went. 



106 



And just across the street, in a livery stable stall, 

A billy-goat was feeding on loose hay from out a rack— 
And men came out with hoes and scraped the terror off 
the wall 
And put his pulpy remnants in a little paper sack. 
Then without dissenting vote 
They gave that billy-goat 
A new twenty-dollar note 
Which he munched a slovv^ly back to the hay his steps he 
bent. 



CHRISTMAS IN DARKTOWN. 
Crismus comes, evah niggah knows, 
But once a yeah, an' away hit goes. 
Nen hab a good time while hit las'— 
Dinah, move aroun' putty tolable fas'. 
Possum good an' tatehs too. 
Little roast pig an' chicken stew, 
Tuhkey stuffed— oh, g' long away, 
Yallah gal yaint nowhah today! 

Gib me dat banjo, Sambo, 

Sambo, gib me dat banjo. 

I '11 play while Dinah spreads de clof— 

Tum-tiddy-tiddy tum— step hit off! 



lOT 



Hiyi! WtLOopee! See liiin danoe 

Twell 'e shake de buttons all off n 'is pants! 

Look dah. now at Singleloot Joe 

Pattin' 'is wooden laig on de f looli— 

Now 'e 's a dancin'— tiaw! haw! haw! 

Jes beats all dis niggah evah saw— 

Ef dah yaint Dinah ginnin' to swing, 

An' she wuz a gran'ma way las' spring! 

Lay down, banjo, 
Lay jes so— 

Doan mek tun o' me, 
Wooden-laig Joe- 
Right han' across an' suhkle roun'. 
Left han' back an' all rake down. 
Rappy-tappy-pat-pat, scrape an' wlieel— 
Lawd know how to mek a niggah 's heel. 
All promenade an' to yoh seats, 
An' I '11 say grace foh dese heah meats. 



WHEN I WAS YOUNa. 
Down on the banks o' Bresh crick I used to be a beau, I 
I 'm not a-go'n' to tell you how long it was ago, | 

But I 'm older now 'an I was then I 'm not ashamed to 

say, 
'N' I used to like a gal down there afore she went away— 
When I was young. 



108 



She wuz Sally Ann McKibben, as party as the morn. 
I used to hear 'er singin* as I plowed the growin' corn 
While she druv^ the cows to pastur comin* right alonjf 

the fence, 
An' I stood an' gawked an' grinned at 'er as if I had no 

sense— 

Fer I was young. 

One time she stopped to chat with me, so bashful stan'in* 

there. 
She wore two roses on 'er cheeks an' two more in 'er hair. 
With rubj^ lips an' pearly teeth an' eyes the hue o' jet— 
A-leanin' on the ol' worm-fence I think I see 'er yet- 
But I was young. 

She smiled an' axed me "Don't you think it 's wrong to 

kiss a girl 
When she tells you that you mus'n't?" an* throwed back 

a stray in' curl. 
I flushed an' ans'ered * 'Course It is." She blushed an* 

laughed an* said 
"That 's what I tol* that city chap**— that chap whose 

hair was red, 

An' he wa*n*t young. 

I tol* *er *at I *d wallop *im an* shet up both 'is eyes. 
I *d turn that briery nose into a pug o* twiste the size, 

109 



I 'd climb 'is frame an' twist 'is limbs an' make 'im sport 
a crutch 

When next 'e druv to Bresh crick; but I did n't do it- 
much. 

I was too young. 

I met 'im in the highway with Sally in 'is rig 

An' I axed 'im to git out o' that, 'f 'e did n't feel too big. 

'E ans'ered me ** With pleasure," an' 'e hopped into the 

road 
An' guv the lines to Sally, an' 'is hat and coat 'e throwed— 
An' me so young. 

'N 'en 'e got into the buggy an' on to church they went. 
I watched 'em with my open eye as on the fence I leant, 
But my clo'es they needed patchin' an' my nose it needed 

care, 
An' as people would be passin' they wuz no bus'ness 

there 

Fer one that young. 

She stopped next day as uzhal where I wuz plowin' corn, 
An' looked as sweet as ever; but she said I looked forlorn 
'N' advised me to cheer up agin— I mus' n't lose my grip 
I tried to grin, but could n't fer the plaster on my lip— 
I did n't feel young. 



110 



I danced at Sally's weddin' when the hollerdays wuz 

come, 
An' in the shivareeln' I beat the biggest drum, 
But I ferguv 'er husban' for the troiinoin' that I got, 
An' I tell no lie in sayin' I have lamed an awful lot 
Sence I was young. 



SORTER BIOGRAPHICAL. 
He was born in Arkansaw, 

In a sorter quiet spot, 
And he always stayed about 

Where at first he 'd sorter got 
A norry glimpse of Mother Earth, 
The flint hills of his place of birth. 

He was a sorter lazy youth, 

And he sorter pottered round 

The farm, and with a shovel plow 

In summer sorter vexed the ground, 

And he raised a patch of corn, 

Though it sorter looked forlorn. 

With the years he sorter grew 

To a cracker lank and tall, 
Dressed in homespun yaller jeans. 

But he sorter had no ''sprawl," 
Or no glt-up, as they say 
In the state of loway. 



Ill 



He married, and then sorter lived 
On bacon from the razor baok, 

Corn pone and punk in stew, and raised 
Of ganglin' boys and gals no lack. 

They tapered down from six feet high 

To the sugar trough and lullaby. 

As the years rolled slowly o'er 

His head, his hair got sorter thin, 

And he sorter shed his teeth. 

And his leathery cheeks caved in. 

Down Time's steep he 'gan to slide, 

And at last he sorter died. 



112 



OLD GRIMES IS DEAD. 
Old Grimes is dead, ttiat jolly soul, 

I ne'er shall him m.ore. 
He had not lived to be so old 

If he had died before . 

I knew him when a boy at school 

He used to run and prance. 
He wiped his nose upon his sleeve, 

His sleeve upon his pants. 

The teacher^s seat it was a stool. 

His coattails reached the floor. 
Grimes nailed them down with carpet tacks, 

Then slipped out through the door. 

Professor Gads, I can't begin 

To tell you half he said, 
But he caught Grimesey halfway home 

And Grimes, he went to bed. 

He was an active, venturous lad. 

He climbed the tallest trees, 
He rode the colts and calves and cows 

And pulled the stings from bees. 



113 



He fought with all the village boys. 

Ofttimos his eyes were black. 
He 'd sometimes run away from, home, 

But next day would come back. 

He had four brothers and they five 

Slept in a trundlebed. 
The others took the lower berth: 

He occupied the head. 

When he was grown he lost his heart 

To winsome Jennie Mott. 
But when he asked for Jennie's hand 

Her father's foot he got. 

This hurt poor Grimes's feelings so 
He vowed he 'd never wed 

'Less he could win a widow's girl, 
The widow being dead. 

Alas, alack for rash resolves 
That men in haste oft make: 

The widow lived and managed well 
Her daughter's place to take. 



114 



And now he 's gone to where, we *re told, 

The good forever rest. 
He owns a golden harp and crown 

And wears a shining vest. 



SEQUEL TO HIAWATHA. 
All the things that Hiawatha 
Did lor good unto his people, 
Did to teach his wand'ring kinsmen 
Of the gifts that Nature gave them 
And the magic power he wielded 
'G^ainst the demons strong and evil 
Of the earth and air and water. 
These have been by others told you 
And I need not here repeat them. 

But one dawn there came among t hem 
One to all the tribes a stranger, 
All the tribes of the Dakotas, 
Bearing something in his right hand 
They had never seen nor heard of. 
It was larger than a pappoose 
Of a dozen moons, and round it 
Was a willow-woven basket. 
Close and strong the willows bound it 
So a blow could scarcely break it 

115 



On the dew-wet grass he set the 
Strange, mysterious, ancient vessel 
Where a knoll o'erlooked the village, 
Pitched beside a stream that winding 
Down from undiscovered sources 
Eastward turned and leaped and bounded 
Deer-like to the Mighty River. 
All the wigwams looked to sunrise, 
And their flaps were thrown wide open; 
For the warm breath of the morning 
Was with balmy fragrance laden, 
With the mingled scents of flowers 
Cov'ring all the summer's bosom. 
And the rose-hue rising redder 
'Bove the far-away horizon 
Threw the gentle height so clearly 
In relief against the day-break 
That the stranger loomed above it 
Like a giant to the people 
As awakened from their slumbers 
They astonished gazed and trembled. 
Then they asked each other of him: 
Who and whence he was they queried, 
But the questions none could answer. 

Not a syllable he uttered. 

Did the stranger as he stood there; 

But he bared his broad, low forehead 



116 



To the fingers of the morning 
That with deft and playful touches 
Tangled round his neck and shoulders 
His long hair, unkempt and yellow, 
Like a matted mass of cornsilks. 
Not a word he spoke unto them 
As he stood there and the sun rose. 

But the warriors grew bolder 
As he made no sound or movement, 
And with cautious feet drew nearer. 
They were followed by the striplings, 
Who in turn led off the old men; 
These the squaws and the pappooses, 
With the children asking often 
Troubled questions of their elders. 
Thus the long procession filed out 
Of the village toward the paleface 
With the curious wicker vessel. 
And they gathered there around him, 
Looking calmly with his blue eyes 
On the picturesque assemblage: 
Standing like a graven statue. 
Silent, motionless and rigid. 
So he stood till they before him 
All were come, as I have named them. 
Then replacing on his forehead 



117 



And the yellow, tangled masses 

Flowing down on neck and shoulders 

The fur cap he 'd lifted from them, 

Decked with tails of minks and foxes, 

Spoke he to the wond'ring people 

In the tongue of Hiawatha: 

"Hear me, oh ye untamed children 

"Of the prairie and the forest: 

'•Hear the message I have brought you, 

"You whose fathers Hiawatha 

"Taught in years that long are vanished- 

"Hiawatha, their great teacher, 

"He who sailed away and left them 

"When the golden and the purple 

"Lights lay on the Big Sea water. 

"From the sun again descended 

"As it rises on the east-land 

"Like a mighty dandelion 

"On its unseen stem upspringing, 

"Bending westward low and lower 

"Till it falls upon the mountains, 

"He hath sent a gift unto you—" 

But the old men interrupting 

Smote their breasts and cried in chorus, 

"O, our teacher, Hiawatha!" 

Cried the young men and the striplings, 

"The brave hunter, Hiawatha I" 



118 



And the squaws in lamentation, 

"Send us back our Hiawatha!" 

"While the children to their mothers 

Clung and echoed, "Hiawatha." 

Then again the stranger, saying 

"Hearken to the things I tell you: 

"I 'm the friend of Hiawatha, 

"Come to bear his message to you 

"With his gift of fire-water. 

"This he sends and bids you drink it. 

"It will make your feet feel lighter 

"When the chase is long and wesivy; 

"It will make your warriors braver 

"When they meet the foe in battle; 

"It will make your hearts beat gladder 

"In the war-dance and the sun-dance; 

"And 't will make your old men young men, 

"And your squaws and children happy." 

From the braves and all the young men. 
From the squaws and all the old men, 
From the striplings and the children. 
Hose the loud acclaim of voices 
Shrill, impatient, eager, calling 
"O, thou friend of Hiawatha, 
"G-ive to us the gift he 's sent us— 
"Give to us this fire-water." 



119 



But he said, ''It is not to you 
••Free like air and land and river. 
••Furs of beaver, robes of bison, 
••Skins of deer, spoil of your chases, 
•'You must bring and lay before me: 
•'Then I '11 give you what he 's sent you." 

So they heaped them up before him. 

Heaped up loads for many ponies. 

Whereupon he raised the vessel 

To his lips and took a snifter 

With a sigh of satisfaction. 

Then he gave a swig to each one 

Of the braves and to the old men 

And the squaws; but to the children 

Gave h© none, because 't was empty. 

But the demijohn he gave them 

That they each might smell the nozzle. 

And the friend of Hiawatha 

Packed the ponies and departed 

For his boat upon the river. 

Leaving them to gather for him 

Other loads to likewise barter 

For the strong and fiery water, 

For the corn-juice of the paleface. 

That should prove their fiercest demon, 

That should miake their strong men children, 

120 

X108 



SnJiifx, 



INDEX. 



Title Page 

The Westward Land 1 

Sonnet— River Time 2 

Wliere Blossoms Bliss 2 

Can Soul Inactive Be Content? 3 

Where Nature Dwells 4 

Night 5 

The Nature Worshipper 6 

Life's Renewing 8 

A Summer's Day Thought 9 

April 10 

Beyond the Horizon 12 

Winter 12 

Easter 18 

The Passing of October 14 

Mother Love. 14 

Dawn 15 

Summer Night 15 

Autumn 16 

The Old Time 17 

My Home That's But in Song 18 

The Music of the Heart 19 

Serenade 20 

Steer Far Out 20 

The Day of Doubt 21 



Knight and Lady 22 

In Sliame and Grief 24 

Totty Brown and Dotty Green 25 

Love Not in Vain 29 

Sunnyeyes 30 

Where Lietli Italy 31 

Mexican Girl's Lament 32 

Two Songs 33 

Betrospection 34 

Reason's Rebuke 36 

Faith's Chilling 40 

The Wind's Work 43 

Life's Cycles 44 

Youth, Age, Happiness 46 

A-Wing 48 

Love's Reading 50 

Fancy Borne 51 

The Voice of Mars 52 

Toast-The Day We Celebrate 53 

The Remorse of Arnold 55 

In National Cemetery 56 

To the American Eagle 58 

A Ballad of the Fleets 60 

In Memoriam— May 30th 62 

Be a Man 64 

The Astrologers 65 

Slug Six 67 



A Spring Song 70 

Love's Question and Answer 72 

Finis . 73 

The New Year. 74 

Herod's Feast 76 

Revelation 80 

Dream- Winged. 88 

Legend ol Spirit Lake (Iowa) 91 

In Pensive Mood 97 

Fair Washington 99 

IN LIGHTER VEIN. 

The Politician's Plaint 101 

Misunderstood 101 

Ad Astra Per Aspera 102 

A Charitable Thought 103 

In the Fall 103 

Theory and Practice 103 

Me Grai vance 104 

Fate ol a Kansas Terror 105 

Christmas in Darktown 107 

When I Was Young 108 

Sorter Biographical Ill 

Old Grimes is Dead 113 

Sequel to Hiawatha 115 



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Cr-mtville,. Pa 
Sept— Oct 1985 







